In the Valley of the Shadow
by Notorious JMG
Summary: Some people will go to great lengths to escape their pain. Others are there to help provide that escape. But when somebody you love goes missing, to what lengths will you go to recover them? Chuck/Dollhouse crossover.
1. Prologue

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_** - Prologue**

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* * *

  
**

She could not believe what a stupid idea this was. They had JUST gotten him out of there, and now, not only did he want to go charging back in, but he had gotten her partner AND their boss to agree with him?!

It was as if he was bound and determined to get himself killed. Sure, she could understand his motivations – it was his dad that he was going after. However, she didn't know what she would do if he got killed. She had reached a point where she couldn't imagine life without him.

She asked her partner to get him home, since the two of them lived in the same apartment complex, and then roared off into the Los Angeles night, her Porsche's engine sending a howl through Burbank. Her anger practically streamed out of her and into the Porsche's steering wheel.

She blasted through the Valley, and then headed south on Laurel Canyon, over the hills. Before she knew it, she was on Sunset, turning into the parking garage of the Standard. Ignoring her common sense's attempt to override what she was doing, she headed upstairs and went directly to the Purple Lounge.

As she entered the bar, she was unaware of a set of very attentive eyes watching her. Those eyes belonged to one Adelle DeWitt, the director of a much-rumored, very real, and extraordinarily secretive Los Angeles branch of an institution known simply as the Dollhouse.

Adelle watched the tall, striking blonde cross the lounge and go directly to the bar. She couldn't hear what the woman was saying, but a moment later, the bartender placed a large tumbler of something that looked to be very potent on the bar…

Which the blonde proceeded to pick up and drain in one go. "Interesting," Adelle mused, raising an eyebrow. As the blonde called for a refill on whatever it was she had just drained, Adelle removed her cell phone from her purse and dialed a number.

"_Hello?_" the sleepy answer came a moment later.

"Topher," Adelle said, a note of reprimand in her voice. "Were you really already asleep?"

The scientist on the other end of the call sighed. "_It's after midnight, Ms. DeWitt,_" he replied. "_I was tired, and there was nothing good on the tube. I think I'm entitled._"

Adelle clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Still bad for business, young man," she stated. "Nonetheless. Do we have any outstanding engagements that call for a tall, fit, and shall I say, well-endowed blonde?"

Topher chuckled. "_Are you kidding?_" he asked. "_We have a list as long as my… uh, my arm of clients who want an engagement with somebody like that._"

Adelle raised an eyebrow at the nearly crude comment, and sighed. "Very well," she said. "I may have a candidate coming your way before too long."

As Adelle hung up the phone, she watched the blonde down the third iteration of whatever it was she was drinking – and it was clearly starting to get to the woman. Head down and shoulders slumped, she walked to a table, stumbling slightly, and sat down.

Seeing an opening, Adelle rose and crossed to the bar. "Excuse me," she said to the bartender. "What has that woman been drinking?"

The bartender snorted. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "Four ounces of Dr. Pepper and a shot of 151. One more of those, and we might have to pour her out of here."

"Really," Adelle replied with a smile. "Do me a favor, and make another one of them… except, this time, put two shots in."

"Uh…" The bartender looked uncertain. "I don't know if that's such a…"

His voice trailed off as Adelle adeptly slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter. "On second thought, no problem," the bartender revised, making the hundred dollar bill disappear quickly.

A moment later, he handed Adelle a glass. "Four ounces of Dr. Pepper, two shots of Bacardi 151," he said. "You're not going to…"

Adelle shook her head. "Don't worry, she'll be just fine."

Drink in hand, Adelle crossed to the table where the woman was sitting. "I believe you were drinking this?" she said, pulling out the chair across from the woman.

The woman raised her head from the table, revealing reddened eyes and a tear-streaked face. Without a word, she reached out, took the drink from Adelle, and downed it rapidly. "Are you alright?" Adelle asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"Not particularly," the woman said quietly.

"I'm very sorry," Adelle replied. "If I may ask, what's wrong?"

The woman looked up at Adelle, and Adelle could see a flicker of uncertainty cross the woman's face. "You can trust me," Adelle promised.

The woman nodded. "Alright," she said. "It's just… there's this guy… and it seems like I always hurt him… or he always hurts me. And I just don't want to hurt anymore."

_I couldn't have had a better opening if I scripted it myself_, Adelle thought in amazement. She reached across the table and took the woman's hand in her own. "What if I told you… I can make the pain go away?"

"What?" the woman asked, cocking her head to the side. "How… you wouldn't hurt him, would you?"

Adelle smiled. "My dear, I don't even know who he is," she replied. "And if you come with me right now, I can make sure you never get hurt by him again."

The woman looked down at the table, a struggle taking place behind her clear blue eyes. Finally, she looked back up at Adelle. "You promise you won't hurt him?"

"I promise," Adelle said quietly, standing from the table and extending a hand. As the woman stood, Adelle asked, "What's your name?"

Adelle barely heard the whispered reply as the woman exited the bar in front of her. But she said it just loud enough.

"Sarah," the woman said softly. "My name is Sarah Walker."

* * *

_Author's note: This story begins immediately after Chuck Bartowski convinces General Beckman to allow his team to pursue his father at the end of "Chuck vs. the Dream Job"_. _The story's timeline is a few days after the events of the _Dollhouse_ episode "Needs"._


	2. Truth AND Consequences

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 1 – "Truth AND Consequences"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Major Don McKay – Brian Austin Green  
Dr. Claire Saunders – Amy Acker  
Boyd Langdon – Harry Lennix  
Major John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Topher Brink – Fran Kranz  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Juliet – Yvonne Strahovski

* * *

**3:30 AM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Tuesday, April 7****th****, 2009  
Los Angeles, CA**

Chuck couldn't sleep. He had tossed and turned for nearly three hours, but he couldn't sleep.

Not that it mattered. He didn't have anything he had to wake up for in the morning. The job at Roark Instruments had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion. And there was no way he was going back to the Buy More. He would sooner voluntarily turn himself over to Fulcrum than go back to the Buy More.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was how quickly he had watched his relationship with his handlers – both of whom he considered his friends, one of them perhaps even more than that – absolutely crumble within the last few hours.

Casey was furious with him. And truth be told, Casey had every right to be furious with him. Chuck had broken every possible protocol in the book. He had stolen Casey's gear from the Castle. He had shot Casey with three tranquilizer darts. And then he had gotten himself captured – albeit temporarily – by Fulcrum.

But Casey's anger was merely a blip on the radar screen compared to the unspoken rage that Chuck could feel emanating from Sarah when she stormed out of the Castle that night. He knew why she was angry, too. Chuck had put himself in danger by going into Roark solo, and then had put the whole team in danger by talking General Beckman into letting them go after his father.

Chuck was beginning to regret that. As important as his father was to him, as much as it meant to him that his father could, just possibly, get the Intersect out of his head, he hated upsetting Sarah. He knew that she had been trained to do exactly what they were going to be doing, but the look of hurt and betrayal in her eyes when Chuck and Casey had joined forces to convince Beckman…

"God dammit," Chuck whispered. This whole thing was spiraling out of control. Why was it that he couldn't just have a normal life? Why was it that, since the moment he had set foot on the Stanford campus, both the CIA and Fulcrum had been inextricably tangled with his life?

Chuck shook his head and reached out for his iPhone. Pressing the touchscreen – _which, if you invented that, Dad, I… well, wouldn't be that terribly surprised_ – he brought up speed dial #1 – Sarah Walker.

He held the phone to his ear, hoping for her to pick up, and then sighing in disappointment when it went directly to voicemail. "_Hi, you've reached Sarah. Leave a message_."

Chuck bit his lip. "Hey, Sarah, it's, uh, it's me. Listen. I'm really sorry about earlier. I know that doesn't even begin to make up for what I did, but you have to understand, this is my only chance at a normal life. And I know, I know you think I can be so much better than normal, but if I'm going to do anything, I have to have this thing out of my head. You know that."

He looked down at the ground. "I really don't want you to be mad at me, because I hate it when you're mad at me. I hate hurting you. I don't want to do that. I just want… I just want to love you."

Chuck tried to think of something else to say, but the words just weren't coming. Slowly, his hand and the phone fell from his face. Without looking, his thumb found the "End" button, cutting off the call.

* * *

**9:30 AM**

Don McKay was not accustomed to operating in an urban environment. Well, at any rate, not an urban environment such as Los Angeles.

McKay was, in fact, Major Don McKay, US Army, retired. He had spent the last eight years bouncing between Afghanistan and Iraq, which, for an Army officer, really wasn't that unusual. But Major McKay wasn't just an Army officer – he was a Ranger. That meant that he had seen and done things that most soldiers would never envision in their very worst nightmares.

Finally, after a poorly timed IED had landed him at the hospital at Ramstein AFB in Germany for eight weeks, McKay decided he had had enough. He couldn't keep doing what he was doing. It was going to drive him mad or get him killed – or, possibly even both.

And so, he spoke to his commanding officer, and a month later, received an honorable discharge based on his now fifty percent disability. A month after that, he was in Los Angeles, his North Hollywood loft a messy man cave, his days spent at the VA Hospital in Westwood, trying to see a specialist for what he knew to be PTSD.

McKay was different from most Iraq veterans in that he actually acknowledged that he had PTSD. He didn't see it as a weakness. Rather, he accepted that it was part of the reality of experiencing the sort of horrific combat that American special forces saw in the two pronged war on God-knew-what.

It always creeped McKay out a little bit to go to the VA Hospital. He always went in his Class B uniform, which made him stand out amongst the rest of the hospital's general clientele. And of the hundred or so people generally sitting in the psych ward's waiting area, he was usually one of maybe five who were completely there.

Deep down, he knew that the other people there weren't really creepy – they were actually a terrifying look into his own future if he wasn't able to treat his PTSD. But even for a man who had come to terms with the fact that he had PTSD, it was still difficult to acknowledge that it could some day rob him of his sanity.

"Major McKay?"

FINALLY. He stood and crossed the waiting area. "I'm Major McKay," he said, holding out a hand to the young woman standing by the door. He took a moment to assess her, as he did with all people he came into contact with.

Late twenties, maybe early thirties at the very oldest. Excellent physical condition, very attractive specimen of woman as well. She had several scars across her face, although they did appear to be healing, and in fact, rather than repulsing McKay, they actually added a bit of mystery and allure to the woman – it seemed that she lived at least a slightly adventurous lifestyle.

"Doctor Claire Saunders," she replied. "I understand you're here seeking counseling?"

McKay swallowed and nodded. "That's correct," he replied.

Dr. Saunders smiled and nodded. "Please follow me."

And so, McKay followed her into an examination room. As soon as the door was shut, she turned to him. "What if I told you that I could make your post-traumatic stress disorder go away permanently?" she asked, with no preamble.

McKay frowned. "You mean, hypnotism?" he asked skeptically. "I'd rather not. I don't want to be brainwashed –"

"No, no," Saunders interrupted him. "Nothing like that. There's an experimental… procedure… which can selectively remove certain parts of a person's psyche, without disturbing the actual memories or the personality. In your case, we would simply reset the part of your brain that triggers the PTSD, but all of your memories of your time in Iraq, everything else that makes you who you are, would remain intact."

All of that had been two months earlier. McKay had assented to the procedure, which had taken place in a subterranean complex below an office tower in downtown Los Angeles. In order to receive the procedure, however, he had had to agree to work for the medical research company for five years.

He had agreed, but had almost reneged following the procedure, when he found out that the research company was actually a front for the Dollhouses of urban lore. However, the director of the Los Angeles Dollhouse, Adelle DeWitt, had convinced him that all the "Actives" at the house were there of their own volition, and would be released at the end of their contracts. McKay's job would be as a handler for one of the Actives. He would be responsible for that Active's well-being and protection.

And so McKay went into handler training. Compared to the training he had gone through at West Point and then in Ranger School, it was a walk in the park, but his ingrained sense of military discipline compelled him to treat every minute of every day like the most important event in his thirty-five years of life.

Today was to be different. Today, April 7th, McKay was finally going to be assigned his own Active. He had been told to meet one of the other handlers, Boyd Langdon, in the lobby of the building at 9:30 sharp.

McKay had heard stories about Langdon. He had apparently only been at the house for three months, but in his time there, had gotten his Active – a girl in her mid-twenties called Echo – out of more situations than most Actives faced in an entire career. On top of that, Langdon had taken down a handler who had repeatedly raped his Active – an act that had put the former LAPD cop firmly on Adelle DeWitt's golden boy list.

"Major McKay?" he heard his name called from across the lobby. He turned to see an African-American man, a few years older than him, coming his way.

McKay shook his head. "Just Don McKay," he replied. "As I understand it, if you call me Major McKay, then I get to call you Detective Langdon."

Langdon snorted. "Well, that's not going to happen, so Mr. McKay it is," he said. "You ready to meet your Active?"

McKay nodded. "Follow me," Langdon said.

* * *

**10:30 AM**

Chuck's phone started howling at him. And when it howled, that was not good.

Grumbling about life in general, he reached out and picked it up, pressing a button to silence the ungodly noise of the USS _Enterprise_'s red alert alarm. He sighed as he saw John Casey's glowering mug staring at him from the surface of the phone.

"Crap," he muttered. Pressing the answer button, he brought the phone to his ear. "What?"

"_Where the hell are you, Bartowski?_" Casey growled.

"In bed," Chuck replied. "You got a better place for me to be?"

"_How 'bout the Buy More, genius?_" The NSA agent sounded annoyed… but there was something else, that Chuck couldn't quite put his finger on. "_Big Mike wants to know where the hell you are._"

"I'm not goin' back," Chuck muttered. "I walked in there the other day after the whole Roark thing, took a look around, and decided I'm not goin' back."

Casey snorted. "_You have fun explaining that to Beckman, Bartowski_," he shot back. "_Seriously, though, you need to get your ass over here. We need to figure out where Walker is._"

And with that, Chuck sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes going wide. "Wait, what do you mean, figure out where she is?"

"_Just what it sounds like, bright boy,_" Casey said. "_She ain't at the Orange Orange, she's not pickin' up her phone, her hotel says she's not answering the phone or the door in her room._"

"Track her car," Chuck said automatically as he stumbled out of bed. "Or, wait, doesn't she have some GPS chip embedded in the back of her hand?"

"_Already did, and yes,_" Casey replied. "_Car's parked at the Standard in West Hollywood. However, Walker's not there. GPS chip went offline about six hours ago, and when it did so, it was nowhere near the Standard_."

With that news, Chuck's heart practically froze in his chest. "What do you mean, her GPS is offline?"

Casey's tone grew somber. "_I mean it doesn't particularly look good, Bartowski, which is why you need to get your ass in gear._"

Chuck was already on his way out the door.

* * *

McKay looked around himself in amazement at the technology filling the room. He knew that he had been in here before – it was the room where he had received the treatment to correct his PTSD – but he had been blindfolded then, told that the blindfold was for his own safety.

"Major McKay!" exclaimed a young, extremely obnoxious looking nerd, extending a hand as he approached. "Welcome back to the treatment center. We met last time you were here, but I don't think you could see much. Topher Brink."

McKay raised an eyebrow. "It's just McKay," he replied. "And I know who you are. Do you really think Ms. DeWitt would've brought me into the program without filling me in on the particulars?"

Topher blanched, and his hand dropped to his side. "Uh, you're right, of course," he said meekly. "Why don't we go meet your Active?"

McKay just shook his head, and followed Topher around the front of the treatment chair. A young woman lay there, unconscious. Dr. Saunders stood next to her, monitoring her vitals. The Active had blonde hair and looked to be in extremely good condition. SUCH good condition, in fact…

"Where'd she come from?" McKay asked, curiosity in his voice.

"Uh-uh," Topher said, shaking his head almost violently. "House protocols. We can't reveal an Active's origin to his or her handler."

McKay turned an angry glare on Topher and growled. "Alright!" Topher squeaked, backing away from McKay. "We can bend protocol a little. She was a fed. That's all I can tell you."

"A fed?!" McKay exploded. "Are you people out of your damn minds? You can't bring a fed in here!"

"Mr. McKay," Saunders interrupted, a soothing tone in her voice. "She's here of her own volition. You know that. Nobody's brought here against their will."

McKay turned his glare on the young doctor. "Dr. Saunders, you have to know that the federal government WILL be looking for their missing agent."

"That's a chance we're willing to take, Mr. McKay," he heard the cultured voice of Adelle DeWitt say behind him. He turned around, a look of disbelief on his face.

"How can you take that risk?" he asked. "I know that if that were a soldier in that chair, downtown Los Angeles would be crawling with troops looking for their buddy!"

DeWitt shrugged. "So you would think," she said. "However, there are three former members of the United States Uniformed Services in this house. Officially, they're AWOL. Unofficially, the government does not have time to go looking for a few missing servicemen – or for that matter, federal agents. Not while the country's forces are so over-committed in the middle east."

Topher popped between the two. "As enthralling as this discussion of ethics and possible military intrigue is, we really need to do the imprint," he interrupted. "She's about sixty seconds from waking up, and I need Mr. McKay there as soon as she's awake."

McKay shook a finger at DeWitt. "There's no way we're done with this discussion," he warned her, turning back toward the Active. "Alright, let's get this over with."

"Right, right," Topher said with a nod. "Alright, Mr. McKay, I need you to hold her hand. When she wakes up, she's going to want to know where she is, who she is, what's going on. You tell her that her name is Juliet, that your name is Don McKay, and that everything's going to be alright."

McKay frowned. "Everything's going to be alright?"

"Yes!" Topher said emphatically. "She's been programmed so that when she hears that, she will respond with the phrase, 'Now that you're here'. However, we have to imprint her with your voice so that she only responds when YOU say it."

A monitor beeped, and Dr. Saunders reported, "She's waking up!"

"Alright, alright!" Topher replied excitedly. "And then, as soon as she says, 'Now that you're here', you ask her if she trusts you. If the imprint works correctly, she'll say, 'With my life'!"

McKay nodded. "Right," he said uncertainly, taking Juliet by the hand. There was a bandage on the back of her hand, but McKay ignored it for the moment. A few seconds later, her eyes flickered open, and she looked up at McKay, a confused look on her face.

"Where am I?" she asked. Her voice sounded oddly hollow and vacant. "Who am I?" A look of alarm came across her face. "Who are you?!"

"Um…" McKay faltered. The look of… nothingness… that had initially been on Juliet's face when she woke up had been somewhat disconcerting. "My name is Don McKay," he said quietly. "You are Juliet. Everything's going to be alright."

The look of alarm disappeared from her face, and she sighed with relief. "Now that you're here."

McKay raised an eyebrow. _Well, that part worked_, he thought. "Do you trust me?"

Juliet nodded emphatically. "With my life!"

"Very good," Dr. Saunders said, stepping in. "Juliet, we're going to have you go some places with Mr. McKay. But first, I need you to come with me so we can do a physical examination, alright?"

"Okay," she replied, nodding and sitting up. Saunders helped Juliet out of the chair, and led her away, out of the room.

As they walked away, McKay turned to Topher. "Why did she have a bandage on her hand?"

"Oh, she had some sort of tracking chip in there," Topher replied. "Probably just a fed thing."

"Naturally, we had to remove it," Adelle interrupted. "Wouldn't want the federal government crawling all over downtown L.A., now would we?"

* * *

**12:30 PM  
Behind the Kodak Theatre**

Chuck and Casey were both covered with grime and trash. They had been digging through the dumpsters behind the Kodak Theatre for over an hour – according to the NSA, it was the last place that Sarah's GPS had registered.

"Shit," Chuck heard Casey mutter. Chuck stood up.

"What is it?"

Casey stood up, slowly shaking his head. A small chip was in his hand. "You recognize this, Bartowski?"

Chuck squinted at it –

_A small chip labeled GTX-494-1337  
A series of tech orders  
A CIA memo requiring all field agents to have the GTX-494 chip implanted  
A tracking screen  
A picture of Field Agent 1337, a.k.a. Sarah Walker_

When the flash ended, Chuck didn't say anything. He just turned away from Casey, and then, without warning, punched a dumpster as hard as he could.

Casey sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."


	3. Without Even Breaking a Sweat

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 2 – "Without Even Breaking a Sweat"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Adelle DeWitt: Olivia Williams  
Juliet: Yvonne Strahovski  
Echo: Eliza Dushku  
Sierra: Dichen Lachman  
November: Miracle Laurie  
Victor: Enver Gjokaj  
Chuck Bartowski: Zachary Levi  
General Diane Beckman: Bonita Fredericy  
Topher Brink: Fran Kranz  
Don McKay: Brian Austin Green  
Laurence Dominic: Reed Diamond

* * *

**7:30 AM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Wednesday, April 8****th****, 2009  
Los Angeles**

Adelle DeWitt had instructed Dr. Saunders to keep Juliet in the infirmary overnight for observation. It was common practice amongst new Actives – they wanted to make sure that the new Active wasn't going to turn psychotic and go on a rampage through the house.

The very idea gave Adelle pause. She knew that Alpha was still out there, somewhere, and that he might well be plotting his return to the house to finish what he had started. If that ever happened…

Well, it didn't bear thinking about. As Adelle entered Pod 3 with Juliet, the lights were coming up, the sleeping chambers sliding open. As they opened, Echo, Sierra, November, and Victor sat up, all looking tired, but all looking ready to face the day.

Adelle looked with disappointment at the empty chamber. Mike had occupied that until two days before, but after the episode where he was "awakened" to his true persona, something had gone very wrong in his mind. He had been sent to the attic, where he was now in suspended animation.

"Good morning, everyone," Adelle said quietly, drawing the four Actives' attention to herself. "I would like you all to meet a new friend. This is Juliet."

Adelle turned to Juliet. "Juliet, this is Echo, Sierra, November, and Victor," she told the blonde. "They are your new friends."

Juliet smiled and stepped toward Echo, extending her hand. "Hello," Juliet said. "It's nice to meet you."

As Echo returned the pleasantries, Adelle was struck by the sheer physical size difference between the two women. Juliet was only about five inches taller than Echo, but Echo had a very slender build, whereas Juliet was clearly somebody who had gone to great lengths to turn her body into…

_Into what?_ Adelle thought to herself. _A fighting machine? A killing machine?_

And for the first time, Adelle began to have second thoughts about this woman formerly known as Sarah Walker.

* * *

**9:00 AM**

Chuck Bartowski was going to great lengths to keep his mind off of Sarah Walker. She had only been missing for a day – that he knew of – and he knew that Sarah was the last person that he needed to be concerned about, but he couldn't help himself. Despite the fact that she could kick his ass fifteen different ways, he had found himself feeling very protective of her ever since Jill had tried to put a bullet in her back.

Nonetheless, worrying about Sarah wasn't going to help her any. And so, Chuck had thrown himself into trying to figure out where exactly Ted Roark might have stashed his father.

He figured the first place to look was legitimate Roark Instruments facilities. A list of those was publicly available online, and he had carefully mapped out the location of each one, and then obtained satellite photos of each. Then, things had gotten a little iffy – Chuck had decided to go looking at things that he shouldn't necessarily have access to.

His first hack had been into the L.A. Department of Water and Power system, to find out how much power the Roark facility in Westwood drew each day. Chuck had been surprised to find that the facility had a spike in power usage each night, far outstripping its power use during the day – even during the hottest summer months.

_But that's probably when they're working on the Intersect_, he realized. _They work on it at night so as to not arouse suspicion… and of course they're going to need more power for a super-computer of that magnitude_.

So, armed with that information, he had started going after the power suppliers for the other Roark facilities worldwide. Arizona Public Service had been a strike-out, as had Elmhurst Mutual Power and Light. The facilities in Chandler and Tacoma were apparently simply computer plants – no unusual power spikes at night.

Chuck was just about to start trying to hack into Southern Montana Electric when his command screen disappeared. "What the hell…"

Almost as soon as he spoke, the screen flickered, and the image of General Beckman appeared in front of him. For the first time that Chuck could remember, she looked exhausted – although she did also have the barest hint of a smile on her face. "_Hello, Mr. Bartowski,_" she said, the tiredness coming through her voice.

"General!" Chuck exclaimed, his eyes wide. "What, uh, what can I do for you?"

Beckman sighed. "_Just explain a couple of things to me, and then you can get back to hacking utility companies._"

_Oh, SHIT!_ Chuck thought. "Uh… what? I'm not sure I –"

Beckman raised a hand. "_The NSA can see everything you do, Bartowski_," she interrupted him. "_But quite frankly, I'm more than inclined to let you continue what you're doing – looking for power spikes at Roark facilities is something that none of my so-called 'brilliant' analysts even thought of._"

"Right," Chuck said in disbelief, nodding. "I mean, I'm not trying – well, it's just, I really want to find my dad… and you know, with Sarah missing, I'm finding it really difficult to think without occupying my time –"

"_You don't have to explain to me, Bartowski_," Beckman replied, with – was that a note of gentleness in her voice?! "_While finding your father and recovering him from Fulcrum is, of course, still you and Major Casey's number one priority, I can understand your desire to assure yourself of Agent Walker's well-being as well._"

"About that, General," Chuck said. "I was thinking, I know she's supposed to be this badass super-spy from the CIA –"

"_The technical term is deep-cover operative, Mr. Bartowski_."

"Right, well, you get the point," Chuck continued. "Anyway, I imagine she's gone off on more than one mission that you weren't aware of. Isn't it possible that Director Panetta could have sent her off on something? Or, you know, somebody higher –"

"_No, Mr. Bartowski_," Beckman stopped him. "_I've spoken with President Obama. He assures me that he has issued no such orders to Agent Walker. And as far as Leon Panetta goes, he just about threw a tantrum in my office when I advised him that Agent Walker had disappeared._"

The tiny glimmer of hope that Chuck had felt vanished as rapidly as it had appeared. "I understand, General," he said. "But, seriously, how does an intelligence asset like Sarah just disappear in the middle of Los Angeles?"

General Beckman sighed and looked at Chuck. "_I don't know_," she replied, a note of helplessness creeping into her voice. "_I simply don't know_."

* * *

**12:00 PM**

Topher was bored. It happened more often than not – the only times his job got exciting were when things were going disastrously wrong. Like a couple weeks before, when that mind control drug had gotten loose, and he and Adelle had gone cuckoo in his office space. Or the week after that, when Echo had gotten her hands on a gun and had proceeded to shoot up the imprint computers.

_Thank God for spares_, Topher thought as he tapped a pencil idly against his desk. He reached out and grabbed a handful of M&Ms, stuffing them in his mouth as he continued watching the monitor.

He sighed wistfully as the new Active, Juliet, walked onto the main floor. She was so beautiful, but she would've been WAY out of Topher's league in the real world. Hell, the _tabula rasa_ "doll" version of her would probably consider herself out of Topher's league. It just didn't seem fair.

But wait. What in heaven's name was she doing? "What are you up to, little girl?" Topher asked himself quietly, watching the monitor. As Juliet walked out of the camera's range, Topher backed up the video, and watched again.

"This is just too weird," he breathed, his hand reaching out for the phone.

* * *

Don McKay felt a little weird to be riding an elevator upward in this building. He was used to riding twelve floors down, to the house level. Instead, he was ascending toward Adelle DeWitt's office.

_I can't believe this is where the Dollhouse is_, he thought for the umpteenth time since he had begun working there. He must have passed the building a hundred times going back and forth to the V.A. hospital, and it would never have occurred to him to think that a highly illegal operation that just barely stopped short of human trafficking was taking place there.

The elevator came to a halt at the twentieth floor, and McKay stepped out, to be greeted by Laurence Dominic, the head of house security. "Afternoon, Mr. McKay," Dominic said, the usual tone of condescension in his voice.

"Mr. Dominic," McKay responded, not bothering to hide his contempt for the other man. Dominic thought he was a big deal, all because he had once headed a highly successful celebrity security company, and now ran security for this Dollhouse. McKay thought he was a joke – _He wouldn't last an hour in the Rangers._

Nonetheless, Dominic was titularly McKay's boss, and so McKay had to pay at least lip service to him. "So, what's the situation?" he asked as they approached Adelle DeWitt's office.

"It's your Active," Dominic said. "She was doing something strange earlier. We think she might be glitching somehow."

Now THAT was surprising. "Glitching?" McKay asked, stopping in his tracks. "I thought that usually only happened with Actives who have been on a great many engagements!"

Dominic raised an eyebrow. "So did I, Mr. McKay. However, it looks like we might be wrong."

He opened the door to DeWitt's office, letting McKay in. Adelle and Topher were both staring at a large monitor on the wall. "See, watch," Topher said, pressing play and pointing at the screen. "She stops, looks around, and looks Victor up and down. But I don't think she's looking at him because she wants him or anything like that."

"Well, thank God for that," Adelle commented dryly. "I think one Active with human urges in that pod is all we need." She turned to McKay. "Mr. McKay. Thank you for coming up so promptly."

"Yeah," he replied, his attention captivated by the image of Juliet moving on the screen. _What the hell?_ he thought, mind racing.

He watched for about thirty seconds. "Back it up," he ordered Topher. "Back to when she comes into the room."

Topher nodded, and backed up the video. After a few seconds, he hit play. McKay watched as Juliet walked into the room, and then…

"No way," he breathed, his eyes widening. A disbelieving smile appeared on his face.

Adelle, Topher, and Dominic all turned to look at him. "Care to share with the rest of us, Mr. McKay?" Dominic asked, a note of irritation in his voice.

McKay laughed. "It's so obvious," he replied. "She's casing the room. She's identifying escape routes, and assessing threats. When she looks Victor up and down there, she's checking him for weapons, trying to make sure he doesn't pose a threat to her."

"But…" Topher looked at McKay in disbelief. "But that's impossible! We completely wiped her brain! There shouldn't be any training at all left. Nothing!"

McKay sighed and shook his head. "You don't understand," he replied. "That kind of training – it's military. They pound it into you over and over again. It becomes second nature, almost like a sixth sense, if you will. You could wipe her brain a dozen times – that kind of thing, it's instinctive, and it's not going away. In fact…"

He crossed to Adelle's desk and picked up Juliet's file. "When she came in, did she have any tattoos of any sort? Any identifying marks?"

"Uh, yeah," Topher replied, moving to stand beside McKay. "She had three flesh-colored tattoos – which I don't understand –"

"So nobody can see them," McKay interrupted. "You know they're there, but nobody else does. They don't pose a threat to you."

"Right," Topher continued, turning an irritated glance on McKay. "Anyway they were all on the small of her back, and they're here on this page… right… here."

He pulled a page out of Juliet's file, and handed it to McKay. McKay looked at the images of the tattoos, then up at Adelle DeWitt, a look of amusement mixed with trepidation on his face. "Do you have any idea what it is that you've introduced to this house?" he finally asked.

"I'm hoping you'll tell me," DeWitt replied sarcastically.

McKay nodded. "Alright," he said. "Topher – is there some way you can put these images up on the monitor?"

Topher snorted. "I'm a computer nerd, Don," he shot back, making McKay prickle. He hated it when people used his first name. "I've got the whole file already ready to go…"

He clicked a mouse button, and the three tattoos appeared on screen. "Alright," McKay said, crossing to the monitor. "This one, right here? The circle with the ER in it, and a Roman numeral 2 between the letters?"

DeWitt and Dominic nodded. "That's the logo for the Royal Military Academy – Sandhurst," McKay replied. "She was trained at the top military school in the United Kingdom. Now, this one… the menorah surrounded by Hebrew characters?"

"I just thought that meant she was Jewish," Topher interjected, drawing a dirty look from Adelle DeWitt.

DeWitt looked back toward McKay. "I'm not going to like this one, am I, Mr. McKay?"

"No, ma'am," McKay replied. "That's the crest of the Mossad – Israel's intelligence agency. That indicates she also trained with the Mossad."

Next to DeWitt, Laurence Dominic was turning red, and the look on his face indicated that he was about ready to strangle Adelle DeWitt. "And… if you think that's bad, you're gonna hate the last one," McKay said with a sigh.

He turned back toward the screen, looking at the image of the skull with a BDU cap on, crossed swords behind it. It was an image he was intimately familiar with – mostly because he had the same thing tattooed on his left pectoral. "That is the logo of the United States Army's Rangers," he informed DeWitt quietly. "She's been through Ranger school – you don't get that tattoo unless you go through the school and successfully complete it."

"Jesus Christ," Dominic spat, walking away from DeWitt. He turned back around. "Mr. McKay – Topher – can you excuse us for a moment?"

Topher looked at McKay, who looked at Dominic. McKay turned back toward Topher, and nodded slightly. The computer nerd and the former Army Ranger quickly exited DeWitt's office, leaving her alone to deal with a very annoyed Laurence Dominic.

As soon as the door swung shut, Dominic turned on DeWitt. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?!" he exploded. "What the hell were you thinking, bringing this woman here?!"

DeWitt sighed and turned toward her desk. "I wasn't aware of her background," she said quietly, crossing toward the desk.

"Well, that's something I was already aware of, but thanks for confirming it," Dominic shot back sarcastically, as DeWitt sat down. "You know, usually when we bring in a new Active, I spend at least two weeks performing a thorough background check to make sure we don't end up with somebody who could take down the entire house without even breaking a sweat!"

"Mr. Dominic!" DeWitt snapped. "Don't you think you're being a little overly dramatic?"

"No, I most certainly do not!" Dominic growled. "Sandhurst? The Mossad? The RANGERS, for Christ's sake?! This woman isn't just a federal agent, Ms. DeWitt, she's probably a goddamn assassin!"

He stepped up to the front of DeWitt's desk, placed his hands flat on the desk, and leaned toward her. "Where did she come from?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Adelle looked up at Dominic, preparing an answer – but as she looked into his eyes, her voice faltered. "The Standard Hotel in West Hollywood," she finally whispered.

That was clearly not the answer Dominic was expecting. He stood up and backed away from the desk. "What?" He shook his head in disbelief. "She wasn't even a prior consideration?"

Adelle shook her head. "I'm sorry, Laurence," she said quietly. "I would ordinarily never do this. I would never just pick somebody out of thin air. But the chance to fill one of our most desired slots – I couldn't pass it up."

Dominic turned away from DeWitt. "This is insane," he said. "You're insane, you know that? You can't just bring an unknown quantity into the house, and expect that everything turns out for the best!"

He turned back toward her. "And I'm really hoping you're gonna tell me that she at least came here of her own volition."

DeWitt sighed and looked downward. "Alright, that's it!" Dominic exploded. "I have apparently signed my own death warrant by working for you!"

"No you have not," DeWitt growled, looking back up, her spine straight again. "Yes, I drugged her. Yes, I took advantage of the fact that she was drunk. But the only thing I gave her was Vicodin. It's not MY fault that her metabolism couldn't handle the two at once. It's not MY fault that someBODY or someTHING caused her to walk into that bar an emotional mess. I gave her the means to an escape, and she took it!"

Dominic stared at DeWitt, a shocked look of disbelief on his face. "You really are insane," he said quietly. "You have no idea what this woman could do to us. You need to get rid of her. Imprint her with her own memories, dump her in an alley somewhere. Just get her out of here."

"I will not," DeWitt shot back. "I already have half a dozen engagements scheduled for this Active, and I have no intention of going back on those." She narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting that you and your staff can't handle Juliet, Mr. Dominic?"

"Don't you dare," Dominic growled. "You will not put this on me." He crossed his arms. "You want my staff to handle Juliet? Fine."

He crossed the room to stand in front of DeWitt again. "But," he said softly, his voice filled with menace, "when we end up with another Alpha on our hands… I will make sure everybody knows that it. Was. YOUR. FAULT."


	4. Hot Women Beating a Path to Chuck's Door

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 3 – "Hot Women Beating a Path to Chuck's Door"**

_**Author's Note: **__Okay, so there has been some doubt so far as to whether or not Adelle DeWitt would do such an irrational thing as pull a random stranger to be a Doll. Well, based on her little indiscretion that we learned about in last night's episode (4/10/09) of _Dollhouse_, I'd say that she's TOTALLY capable of doing such an irrational thing!_

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Chuck Bartowski: Zachary Levi  
Ellie Bartowski: Sarah Lancaster  
Major John Casey: Adam Baldwin  
General Diane Beckman: Bonita Fredericy  
Emmett Milbarge: Tony Hale  
Lester Patel: Vik Sahay  
Jeff Barnes: Scott Krinsky  
Morgan Grimes: Joshua Gomez  
Special Agent Carrie Rozelle: Summer Glau

* * *

**8:00 AM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Thursday, April 9****th****, 2009  
Los Angeles**

Chuck Bartowski had found that he was moving more and more slowly the last few days. He seemed to lack the motivation to do anything. He couldn't stop thinking about Sarah, and had grown almost desperate in his desire to take his mind off of her.

In fact, he had grown so desperate that when Big Mike had called him yesterday and pleaded with him to come back to the store, he had caved. Big Mike had even gone so far as to promise him a promotion where he would essentially be the "Assistant Manager in Charge of the Nerd Herd". In other words, he would still basically be doing the same job, but he would report directly to Big Mike – no more dealing with Emmett.

_I suppose that's a small consolation_, he thought as he stepped out of his bedroom. He looked at himself in the hallway mirror – his white shirt was a little more wrinkled than usual, his tie a little looser. Oh well. Life would go on.

Chuck could smell French toast as he approached the kitchen. "Good morning, Chuck!" his sister said, in a voice that seemed far too cheerful.

"Uh-huh," he grumbled, sitting down at the dining room table and resting his head against its surface. Even the coolness of the table's surface didn't help any.

"Are you alright, Chuck?" Ellie asked, crossing toward the table.

Chuck raised his head, looking at Ellie through weary eyes. "I guess, sis," he mumbled. "I just… I never figured I'd be going back to the Buy More, you know? Not after…"

He sighed. "I know," Ellie said quietly. "I wish you were at Roark too, Chuck. But Dad, he just had to screw things up for you –"

"No, Ellie," Chuck interrupted forcefully. "It wasn't Dad's fault. For once, it wasn't Dad's fault."

Ellie looked at him curiously. "Then why, Chuck?" she asked. "Why would you screw something so good up like that?"

Chuck sighed and looked at the table. "It's just, I was, you know, I was looking at the code for RIOS, and I thought I saw an error – and I thought it would be bad if it was allowed to be released, so I tried to stop him – and, well, you saw how well that worked out –"

Chuck stopped himself. He was babbling, and worse yet, he was lying to his sister. Again. "Chuck," Ellie said soothingly. "That's why there are patches. Even I know that. You've seen how many fixes Microsoft has to release every time they release a new version of Windows."

She paused. "You know, you should really take a couple days off. Get away from L.A. You and Sarah should go somewhere for a while."

Then Ellie cocked her head. "Where is Sarah, anyway?" she asked. "I haven't seen her around for a few days."

_Aw, crap_, Chuck thought. _Think fast, Bartowski._ "Uh, she, uh, she had to go back East. For a couple days. Maybe a couple weeks."

"Really?" Ellie asked with a grimace. "What for?"

_God DAMMIT_. "Her, uh, her uncle, her Uncle Roan. He was in a bad car accident."

"Her Uncle Roan?" Ellie replied. "She never mentioned him…"

"Yeah, I guess he's, like, the crazy uncle of the family or something," Chuck said. "But they were close, or something like that. I don't really know – she called me on her way to the airport, and said she'd see me when she got back –"

Chuck cut himself off again. "Look, I have to go," he said. "Much as I don't want to be at the Buy More, I really need to be on time. It'll look bad if I go back just to be late."

Before Ellie could say anything, Chuck practically launched himself out the door. He was getting sick and tired of lying to his sister, and the last thing he wanted to do was come up with yet another lie. It was really starting to grate on –

Chuck's train of thought was interrupted by a vice grip taking hold of his left arm and dragging him into an apartment. "Her Uncle Roan, Bartowski?" Casey hissed. "Oh, I bet he'd LOVE to hear that."

"Oh, get off it," Chuck grumbled as he straightened his shirt out. He slammed the door of Casey's apartment shut. "He spends half his life in an alcoholic haze anyway. Who cares if I pretended that he's Sarah's uncle for three minutes?"

Casey rolled his eyes. "You know, Bartowski, I am really not going to be happy if you stay in this mood. Yeah, I know, Walker's missing, but we've got a job to do here."

"Yeah, I know," Chuck shot back. "And maybe I wouldn't be in this mood if you'd stop reminding me." Chuck paused. "But you know, I guess you'd have to have a soul to remember that people have feelings."

"A soul, Bartowski?" Casey growled menacingly, taking a step toward Chuck. "I'll show you a sole, bub. The bottom of my boot –"

"_GENTLEMEN!_"

Both Casey and Chuck's heads whipped around to see General Beckman staring at them disapprovingly from Casey's TV. "General!" Casey exclaimed. "Uh… good morning?"

Beckman ignored him. "_Are you two quite done?_"

"Uh, yes ma'am," Casey replied.

"_Good,_" Beckman snapped. "_You two listen up, and listen good. I can't afford for your team to be sitting around, out of commission. I will be sending a temporary handler to take Agent Walker's place until such time as she returns or we determine that she won't be returning._"

Chuck shook his head. "General, why wouldn't she return?"

General Beckman looked at Chuck as if trying to say, _Are you serious?_ But instead of saying it, she sighed. "_Mr. Bartowski, surely you've considered the worst possibility here. Much as none of us would like to believe it, we have to consider the very real possibility that Agent Walker is dead._"

Chuck sucked in his breath and closed his eyes. The thought had, of course, crossed his mind, but he refused to allow himself to dwell on it. He remained silent for a moment. "_Mr. Bartowski?_"

"General, you're right," he replied. "I haven't considered it, mostly because I refuse to believe that she could possibly be dead."

"_And why would that be, Mr. Bartowski?_" Beckman asked, in the type of voice one might use to humor a small child.

"Because, General, I feel like she's still alive," Chuck answered. "Call it stupid, call it ridiculous, call it whatever you want, but I'm pretty sure I would know if Sarah had died. And I don't think she has."

Nobody spoke for a moment. Finally, Beckman shook her head, and said, "_Alright, Mr. Bartowski. I won't... disrupt your… illusion._" She sighed, and it looked like she was fighting very hard to keep from shaking her head again. "_Nonetheless, you need to be prepared to receive a new member of your team. She will be arriving this afternoon –_"

"She?" Casey asked, a note of dismay in his voice. "General, all respect, but it seems to me that female members of this team usually end up being more interested in what's in Bartowski's pants than in his brain –"

Beckman leveled a disapproving glare at Casey, and he shut up immediately. "_Your concerns are noted, Major_," she replied, an acidic tone to her voice. "_However, please keep in mind that though this team has been dealt something of a setback, you still have a mission. You are still tasked to recover Orion, and to deal with Fulcrum. In the course of that mission, there may be times when Mr. Bartowski needs a date for some sort of function, and unless you're planning on taking up drag, Major, then there needs to be a female operative on the team!_"

And with that, Beckman cut off the transmission. Casey growled unintelligibly at the screen before turning to Chuck, only to see a slightly amused look on the younger man's face. "Alright, Bartowski, I'll bite," Casey said sarcastically. "What exactly is so goddamn funny?"

Chuck actually smiled. "Just the thought of Major John Casey in drag," he replied. "I guess I could see you in pink… but you seem like more of a purp…"

Chuck's voice died away and he gulped as Casey pulled his gun and aimed it at Chuck's forehead. "You have five seconds to disappear, Bartowski."

* * *

**8:30 AM**

For reasons passing understanding, Chuck had never turned in his Herder. He was grateful for that now, as he really hadn't wanted to take the bus to work.

Nonetheless, he found himself dragging as he made his way through the door of the Buy More. It grated against everything in his mind. Every little thing. Three days earlier, he had walked through the door of Roark Industries in Westwood, thinking that his life had finally turned around.

And yet, here he was. Back in Burbank. Back at the Buy More. Back at the Empire Plaza, where he was mocked at every turn. If he looked to his left, there was the Orange Orange; to his right was the Wienerlicious.

Reminders of Sarah no matter where he turned.

As usual, he was the first person in the door of the Buy More, beating even Big Mike. By the time Emmett Milbarge arrived at 9:15, Chuck had the Nerd Herd counter situated, and was staring at Wikipedia, a vacant look in his eyes.

"Well, well," the ferret-like assistant manager smarmed as he approached Chuck. "The prodigal son returneth!"

Chuck sighed and looked over at Emmett. "Not now, Emmett," he muttered.

Emmett raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Mr. Bartowski?" he asked condescendingly. "Do my ears deceive me, or were you just insubordinate toward the assistant manager?"

_Please God, give me strength_, Chuck thought, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't call it insubordination," Chuck replied patiently. "You see, my agreement with Big Mike to come back was that I report directly to him, and don't have to deal with you anymore."

Emmett's jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged. "You – wha?!" The smaller man began to puff up like a cornered cat. "That – that – Buy More policies – the Nerd Herd always falls under the assistant manager!"

Chuck shrugged. "Then I would suggest you take that up with Big Mike."

Emmett stood staring at Chuck for another moment, his face growing a peculiar shade of puce. Finally, he marched off, shouting, "MICHAEL!" as he approached the manager's office.

Much to Chuck's relief, Emmett did not re-emerge from Big Mike's office until after the store had opened. By the time the assistant manager DID reappear, Chuck was well into the day. When Emmett passed Chuck, he had on his face the look of a dog who had been severely reprimanded for peeing on his owner's couch. Chuck did his best not to smile at the other man's misfortune.

Around 10:30, Chuck felt a presence behind him. Normally, he would associate the feeling with John Casey, but it wasn't a feeling of menace so much as it was a feeling of…

"You guys are really creepy sometimes," Chuck said, turning around to face Jeff and Lester.

Jeff nodded and grinned. "That's what the ladies tell me too," he replied.

Chuck shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Charles," Lester said, "may I ask, what motivated you to come back?"

"Seriously?" Chuck snorted in disbelief. "I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure the two of you were there when I attempted the Boston Tea Party at Roark Instruments." He paused for a moment. "By the way, I've been meaning to thank you guys for trying to help me escape. I mean, yeah, it was stupid, what I did, but the two of you did your best to make sure I got out of there…"

"It's called nerd solidarity, Chuck," Jeff said, a note of disorientation to his voice.

Chuck turned his gaze on the former video game champion. Tilting his head to the side, he sniffed the air. "Jeff… did you have a liquid breakfast?"

Jeff looked back at Chuck, and then sighed. Turning to Lester, he complained, "You told me I didn't smell like booze!"

"I'm sorry, Jeffrey!" Lester exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "It must be that I've been around you so much that my brain doesn't even register the smell of alcohol in your general vicinity any longer!"

Chuck shook his head, and returned his attention to the computer screen in front of him, where Penny Arcade occupied the screen. He was deeply engrossed in _The Seventh Spring_, Part Two, when his concentration was interrupted once again.

"Chuck!" Morgan proclaimed as he approached the Nerd Herd counter. "You have returned!"

Chuck sighed for probably the fiftieth time that morning. "Indeed, I have," he replied. "Somewhat to my chagrin."

Morgan made a face. "What do you mean, somewhat to your chagrin? This is the Buy More, Charles! We are the lords and masters of this place!"

Chuck snorted. "Morgan, three days ago, I was – albeit temporarily – a software engineer for Ted Roark. That was the fulfillment of a life-long dream." He shook his head and looked at his friend in disbelief. "Don't you have any dreams, Morgan?"

Morgan shrugged. "Sure," he replied. "I had a dream about owning my own DeLorean. Did that! I dreamt I would one day astonish crowds of people with my feats of the strange and unusual." He grinned. "I think Mystery Crisper qualifies me for that."

"Eh," Chuck replied with a shrug. "I'll give you that one."

"That, and I always dreamed about having a hot girlfriend," Morgan finished. "Not only do I have a hot girlfriend, but I have a hot and freaky girlfriend!"

Chuck shuddered. "That's quite enough," he cautioned Morgan.

"Right, right, I know," Morgan said. "But you know, Chuck, you have a girlfriend who makes mine look like Sarah Jessica Parker."

"Uh…" Chuck frowned. "I'm not quite sure how that comparison works, Morgan."

"Aw, come on, man!" Morgan complained. "Don't you listen to Kevin and Bean? Sarah Jessica Parker's a horse-face!"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. He hadn't listened to the KROQ morning show in a while, but if Kevin and Bean were giving that kind of commentary on the _Sex and the City _star, it might be necessary. "You know, I haven't seen Sarah in a few days," Morgan commented.

Chuck sighed. _Here we go again_, he complained mentally. "Yeah, she had to go back east for a few days," he said. "Her Uncle Roan was in a bad car accident."

"Uncle Roan," Morgan mused, his eyes narrowing. "Hey, wait a minute! Wasn't he that crazy guy who was here back in September or October?"

Chuck's mind raced. Had Morgan encountered Roan at some point? _He must have_, Chuck thought. "Yeah, that's the one."

Morgan made a face. "That's a little creepy, then," he said. "I remember he was here at the Buy More, and he pointed out you and Sarah. He said he was pretty certain that you were, and I quote, 'Knocking some serious boots' with her, and then proceeded to describe how… well, um, you get the point."

Chuck winced. _Dammit_, he thought. "Yeah," he replied. "Sarah always calls him her, uh, her crazy Uncle Roan."

But Morgan's attention was lost. His gaze had turned to the front door. "Dude," he breathed. "Uh, Chuck, dude, Rachel Dawes!"

"Oh, come on!" Chuck groaned. "Morgan, it worked with Vicki Vale. It's not nearly as funny when you try to make it about…" His voice trailed off as he followed Morgan's gaze. "Whoa."

The woman who had just walked in the door would've put the most recent incarnation of Bruce Wayne's girlfriend to shame. She was brunette, and a few inches shorter than Sarah, but was clearly a finely-tuned killing machine – just like Sarah. The black leather jacket and very tight jeans she was wearing had clearly captivated Morgan.

She walked up to the Nerd Herd counter, and before either Chuck or Morgan could say anything, she smiled, and said, "I'm looking for Chuck Bartowski. Would that be one of you two?"

Morgan's jaw dropped, and he turned to Chuck. "Dude, that is so unfair," he muttered. "I mean, Sarah, Carina, Lou, Jill… it's like every hot woman in California has decided to beat a path to your door!"

The woman's smile faded and she looked from Chuck to Morgan uncertainly, then back again to Chuck. "Um… I think I hear Big Mike calling me," Morgan said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "Yeah, Big Mike, I'll be right there!"

Morgan ran off like a scared puppy. Chuck looked after him and just shook his head. "I'm Chuck," he sighed, holding out a hand, which the woman took. "You'll have to forgive Morgan. I don't think he's as fully evolved as the rest of us."

She laughed and shook her head. "Clearly," she replied. "My name's Carrie Rozelle, US Secret Service. The district commander said the NSA needed a spare agent to help out with a mission that was being operated out of here, and that I should ask for you?"

_Ah_, Chuck thought. _Of course._ "Well, yeah, I guess so," Chuck replied. "But we should probably go talk about this in the operations base, with my other handler."

Carrie looked around in confusion. "Where's your operations base?"

Chuck smiled half-heartedly. "How would you feel about some frozen yogurt?"


	5. Mommy Issues

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 4 – "Mommy Issues"**

_**Author's note: **__Bonus cookies to anybody who recognizes the symbolism of the gun that Casey is cleaning at the beginning of this chapter.  
Double bonus cookies if you can catch the shout-out to one of the best _Chuck_ fanfic writers out there, and TRIPLE bonus cookies if you can figure out the second layer to said shout-out._

**CAST (in order of appearance):  
**Major John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Agent Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau  
General Diane Beckman – Bonita Fredericy  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Vincent Torvalds – Arnold Vosloo  
Don McKay – Brian Austin Green  
Juliet/Blair Channing – Yvonne Strahovski  
Agent Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett

* * *

**12:00 PM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Thursday, April 9****th****, 2009  
Burbank**

John Casey sat alone in the Castle, cleaning the parts of his very favorite gun. A Saiga-12 semi-automatic shotgun, it was an evolution of the famous Kalashnikov AK-47. This particular model had been in Casey's possession for nearly twenty years, and currently sat disassembled on the stainless steel table in front of him.

Very carefully, with a tiny brush and a can of compressed air, he was cleaning all the minuscule particles of dirt and grit off of the trigger assembly. Though there was barely anything visible on the trigger, Casey knew that if he reassembled the gun and the trigger wasn't just right, then the firing action would feel off. And that would simply not do.

A sudden BANG startled Casey, causing him to drop the trigger on the table. Quicker than a person could blink, Casey's hand went behind his back, drawing his Glock 37 from his waistband and aiming it at the intruders –

Casey growled and lowered his gun as he realized that it was just Bartowski and some brunette woman. "Sorry, Casey!" Chuck called sheepishly. "Wind blew the door open."

"Yeah, whatever," Casey shot back. "Who's the girl?"

"Excuse me?"

Casey looked up to see an irritated look on the woman's face. "My apologies," he said dryly. "Who the hell are you?"

The woman looked at Casey in disbelief, and then turned to Chuck. "Is he always like this?"

Chuck nodded. "He most certainly is," he replied. "Casey, this is Agent Carrie Rozelle, Secret Service. She's… uh… she's taking Sarah's place for a while."

In spite of himself, a thought ran unbidden through Casey's mind – _NOBODY is taking Walker's place_, he growled mentally. "Major John Casey, USAF and NSA," he introduced himself. "What's your piece?"

A small smile appeared on Rozelle's face. "Well, I actually carry two," she replied, descending the stairs. She pulled a gun from the waistband behind her back and laid it on the table. "There's this one –"

John Casey's eyes widened at the small howitzer that had just been laid on the table. "Good Lord," he said. "Is that a Desert Eagle?"

Rozelle's smile got a little bit bigger. "It is indeed," she replied. "Israel Defense Industries, fifty caliber handgun. I don't really fire it very often – I just use it for intimidation."

"Well, it would certainly work on me," Chuck interjected, looking at the enormous handgun. "That thing's got to weigh a ton. How do you get it to stay put?"

Rozelle playfully raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Chuck blushed bright red, and Carrie turned back toward Casey. "For more practical purposes, I carry a Secret Service issue FN Five-Seven USG. Much lighter, and it fits in the thigh holster."

Casey snorted. "I think I liked you better with the Desert Eagle," he replied.

Carrie shrugged. "The 5-7's more accurate, too," she said. "But hey, it's not about size, Major. It's what you do with it."

Casey shook his head and was about to retort, but Chuck noticed something on the main computer screen. _Teleconference initiating_, the screen said, a blinking red cursor next to it. "Hey, looks like it's briefing time," Chuck said.

Casey stood up from the table and crossed to stand next to Chuck, just as General Beckman's face appeared on the screen. "_Good afternoon, Bartowski, Major Casey,_" she said. "_Any progress yet?_"

"Nothing this morning, General," Casey replied. "Uh, Walker's fill-in arrived today. She's Secret Service – I'm assuming that's not a problem."

Beckman shrugged. "_I don't see why it would be, Major,_" she said. "_Has the agent been briefed yet?_"

"No, ma'am," Casey answered. "She just arrived. In fact – uh, Agent Rozelle?"

Chuck wasn't sure, but he swore that Beckman's eyes widened when Casey said _Agent Rozelle_ – and then, when Carrie turned and faced the screen, Beckman's face turned bright red. "General, are you alright?" Chuck asked.

Beckman took several deep breaths, and then ground out, "_Carol?_"

Carrie smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Hi, Mom."

* * *

**12:30 PM**  
**Westwood**

Adelle DeWitt examined the man sitting across from her. Vincent Torvalds, his name was. Chief of security for the Westwood headquarters of Roark Instrument, less than a mile away from the Dollhouse.

He didn't look like a very pleasant individual. In fact, he looked so unpleasant that Adelle was certain that he and Mr. Dominic would get on quite famously. Not that they ever needed to meet.

"So, you say this is an event in honor of a… Mr. Bergey?" Adelle asked, looking at her notes.

"That's right," Torvalds replied. "Bill Bergey. He's one of our top talent recruiters, and he recently reached his twenty-fifth anniversary with Roark."

Adelle raised an eyebrow. "And I'm assuming that Mr. Bergey's wife is older and not as attractive, thus necessitating the younger woman on his arm this evening? To make him still appear youthful and full of vitality?"

The question made Torvalds visibly uncomfortable. "Not… quite," he replied. "Mr. Bergey… actually doesn't really, how shall I put this, appreciate the company of women."

Adelle's other eyebrow shot up. She wasn't quite certain she had heard Torvalds correctly. "Come again?"

"He's gay," Torvalds said with a sigh. "And a great many of our clients – and potential recruits – are conservatives who don't exactly support the homosexual lifestyle. So, as distasteful as it may be, we have to make it appear that Mr. Bergey is happily straight."

Adelle laughed in astonishment. "Is this not 2009?" she asked, shaking her head. "Have we suddenly been transported to the 1950s?"

"No, Ms. DeWitt," Torvalds replied sarcastically. "We simply live in the state that passed Proposition Eight. That's all."

Adelle sighed. "Very well," she said. "Then let me give you your options."

Crossing behind her desk, she tapped a few keys on her computer, and four faces lit up on the wall monitor. "These are the women of Pod 3," she explained. "Three of our most accomplished – Echo, November, and Sierra – and a new, and very promising addition – Juliet."

As Vincent stared at the screen, his eyes widened, and he physically had to force his mouth to stay shut. Juliet – that was that blonde agent from the Buy More in Burbank! She was the one who had showed up to rescue Steve Bartowski's brat kid at Roark!

A grin slowly formed on his face. Sometimes, there was a certain poetry to life. "Juliet will do quite nicely," he said. "She needs green eyes and shorter black hair… but she'll do just fine."

* * *

**1:00 PM**  
**Burbank**

Chuck and Casey had spent the last half hour doing precisely nothing. Carrie Rozelle, on the other hand, had been on the phone having a shouting match with her mother, who was arguably the most powerful woman in the country.

Chuck shook his head. "How did neither of us know that General Beckman had a daughter?"

"What, it wasn't in your noggin?" Casey asked. Chuck rolled his eyes. "Hell, Bartowski, I don't know… I guess Beckman just doesn't seem like the mothering type."

Finally, they heard what sounded distinctly like a cheap cell phone shattering against a concrete wall. "That did not sound good," Chuck sighed.

A moment later, Carrie came storming out of the holding area of the Castle, and rocketed up the stairs. Chuck looked over at Casey, who sighed and shook his head. "I've got this," the NSA agent said, standing.

No sooner had John Casey left the Castle than the monitor flickered on, revealing a very annoyed looking General Beckman. "_Bartowski!_" she barked.

Chuck jumped nearly a foot in the air. "Uh, yes ma'am?" he replied.

Beckman narrowed her eyes. "_Where exactly are Agent Rozelle and Major Casey?_"

"Uh…" Chuck swallowed nervously. "Agent Rozelle threw her phone against the wall and stormed off. Major Casey went to try to go talk her down."

Chuck swore that Beckman growled. "_Very well_," she spat. "_When they return, let them know that there is a Roark Instrument function tonight at the Sofitel in West Hollywood. You and Agent Rozelle will attend, posing as a…_" Beckman paused and took a breath. "_As a married couple. You will see if you can determine any intelligence on the whereabouts of Orion._"

"Understood," Chuck replied. "Uh…" He wasn't quite sure how to frame his next question. "Has there been any information on Sarah?"

"_There has been nothing_," Beckman replied shortly. "_And quite frankly, Mr. Bartowski, I need your team to focus on recovering Orion. Agent Walker, wherever she might be, is trained to take care of herself. Your concern will do her no good._"

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck replied, and started to turn away. Beckman moved to end the transmission, but then stopped herself.

"_One more thing, Bartowski_," she said, and this time, there was a distinctive note of malice in her voice.

Chuck turned back toward the screen. "Uh, yes, ma'am?" he asked, nervously.

Beckman leaned toward the camera and narrowed her eyes. "_Ensure that you and Agent Rozelle maintain a proper, professional relationship_," she said softly but dangerously. "_I promise you that if you even think of acting around Agent Rozelle like you do around Agent Walker, you will be entering a world of pain._"

Chuck froze. He tried to force his mouth to move, but nothing came out. Without another word, Beckman ended the transmission, leaving Chuck staring at a blank screen.

"Uh… yes, ma'am." _Oh dear God, I'm a dead man._

* * *

"Rozelle!" Casey winced as his right knee twinged. Carrie Rozelle ignored him, storming out the front door of the Orange Orange.

"Dammit," Casey muttered. "ROZELLE!"

The diminutive Secret Service agent stopped, and whirled around to face John Casey. "WHAT?!"

Casey gave her an inquisitive look. "Care to share what the hell just happened?"

Rozelle stared back at him, her brown eyes almost ebony, staring back at Casey like live coals. "My mother doesn't approve of me being on this mission," she growled.

Casey shook his head and smiled half-heartedly. "Of course she doesn't," he offered. "She's the director of the National Security Agency. She knows exactly what goes on here in Burbank?"

A look of disbelief skewered John Casey. "What are you saying, Major?" Carrie shot back. "Are you saying I can't handle it?"

"No, that's not it, it's just th-"

"I'll have you know that I was tabbed for President Obama's personal detail," Rozelle interrupted him. "I'm the best of the best that the Secret Service has to offer, and I can't even tell you how much of an honor it is to be picked for the President's detail. But no!" She threw her hands up in the air. "My busybody mother had to step in, because apparently being on President Obama's detail was too dangerous!"

Casey sighed. He had no idea how to handle this. He wasn't a counselor, for cripes sake. He left this stuff to the shrinks. He always let Walker do the psychobullcrap with Bartowski, because she was good at it. John Casey was good at making people stop moving on a semi-permanent to permanent basis.

But he had to get Rozelle calmed down somehow. "Uh…" _Think, Casey, think_. "Where'd you get the name Rozelle from?" he finally asked. "Your mom's name is Beckman, after all."

"Don't remind me," Carrie grumbled. "Rozelle was – is – my dad's last name. Jackson Rozelle."

"Jackson Rozelle…" Casey muttered. Then his eyes widened. "Wait, as in Captain Jack Rozelle?"

Carrie sighed. "Yeah, that's the one," she replied, shaking her head. "Captain Jackson Rozelle. Better known to the world as Commander Jackson Rozelle, the third part of the Iran-Contra triangle of dumbasses."

Casey shrugged. "Couldn't have been that much of a dumbass," he said. "North and Poindexter both got raked over the coals, but he got off without so much as a mark on his record."

"Yeah, well, it totally screwed my parents' marriage," Carrie spat. "Do you have any idea what it's like for a six year-old to go to school and have parents tell their kids that they can't play with you because your dad is involved with Iran-Contra?"

"I'm sure it was hard –"

"You're damn right it was hard." Carrie Rozelle looked like she wanted to kill somebody. "After my mom divorced him and went back to using the name Beckman, I used it too, all the way through college."

Casey cocked his head and gave her a curious look. "So why'd you go back to using Rozelle?"

"I wouldn't have," Carrie sighed. "But Mom didn't want her name to be unduly influential. So she told me I couldn't use the name Beckman if I wanted to be a federal agent."

"Well, I can understand that," Casey replied. "Especially considering…"

Casey realized his mistake and shut up quickly, but not quickly enough. "Especially considering WHAT, Major?" Carrie growled. "Especially considering what my dad had been involved with?"

Casey shook his head. "I'm sorry, Agent Rozelle," he replied. "I didn't mean it."

At that moment, Chuck emerged from the front door of the Orange Orange. He looked at Casey, who had his hands up in a form of surrender, and then at Rozelle, who looked just about ready to chew nails. "Glad to see the two of you getting along," he said. "We've got a mission on tonight for a Roark event."

Casey looked over at him. "Orion?"

Chuck shrugged. "What else would a Roark event be about?"

"Well, did you ever consider that Roark might be involved with… you know?"

"I did," Chuck said, shaking his head, "but General Beckman said that they're not."

Carrie looked from Chuck to Casey and back. "Am I missing something?"

Chuck looked over at Carrie, a look of bitter humor on his face. "I never thought I'd say this to a federal agent, but… sorry. It's classified."

* * *

**7:30 PM  
West Hollywood**

The black Dodge Sprinter van turned left off of La Cienega Boulevard onto Beverly Place, pulling up behind the Sofitel Hotel. It rolled to a stop by the loading dock, and the side door slid open.

Don McKay stepped out and looked around at his surroundings. He knew this area very well, but had never actually cased it before. Once he was damn sure that there were no threats around, he looked inside the van. "Ms. Channing?"

Juliet – _nope, Blair Channing_, McKay reminded himself for probably the fiftieth time – stepped out of the van. She was wearing a black shoulder-length wig, green contacts, and a light blue Chanel dress that McKay figured may have cost more than the van.

Blair wrinkled her nose in disgust and spoke with a voice that made it quite clear what she had been imprinted to be – a stuck up L.A. socialite. "Seriously, Donald?" she sneered. "I'm going into the Sofitel through the back entrance?"

"Sorry, Ms. Channing," Don replied. "We can't risk anybody who isn't supposed to see you seeing you here."

"Christ," she muttered. "I swear to you, if I hear about this at the club, I will crush your balls."

_Little does she know she probably actually could_, McKay thought with a shudder. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Ms. Channing," he sighed, shaking his head.

A balding man was waiting for them inside the service entrance. "Mr. McKay?" he asked as they entered.

"That's me," McKay replied. "You must be Mr. Torvalds."

"Vincent Torvalds," the man replied, holding out his hand. "Chief of Security for Roark Westwood."

"Don McKay, Rossum Corporation," McKay replied, shaking Torvalds' hand. "And this is Blair Channing."

"Ms. Channing, a pleasure," Torvalds replied, taking Blair's hand. A rather unpleasant smirk appeared on his face as she rolled her eyes.

McKay smiled faintly and shook his head. He was not particularly looking forward to this evening. Nonetheless, he extended his arm to Blair, who took it, allowing McKay to escort her down the hall behind Torvalds.

A few minutes later, they reached the door to a small conference room. Torvalds knocked, and then opened the door. As McKay guided Blair inside, a projector shut off – but not before McKay caught a quick glimpse of what looked like a twisted cross between the eagle from the seal of the President and the old Nazi eagle. _What the hell?_

"Thank you, Mr. McKay," Torvalds said. "We'll see you in the ballroom."

"Uh, Mr. Torvalds…"

Torvalds turned to McKay. "I assure you, she will be fine."

Unconvinced, Don McKay nonetheless backed out of the conference room, pulling the door shut behind him. The unpleasant smirk returned to Torvalds' face as he turned to his boss. "Mr. Bergey?" he said.

Bill Bergey turned around, and his eyes went wide as he saw the woman standing next to Vincent Torvalds. "Mr. Bergey, this is Blair Channing," Torvalds said, the smirk turning into a full-blown grin.

Bergey was now turning red. His jaw worked as he attempted to maintain control. Finally, he spoke. "Mr. Torvalds, may I speak to you?" he forced out.

Torvalds walked to the opposite end of the room, Bergey in his wake. When they stopped, Bergey leaned in to Torvalds and hissed, "THAT is Sarah Walker!"

Torvalds grinned widely. "Oh, I'm very aware of that, sir. Well. At least, she used to be Sarah Walker."

Bergey raised an eyebrow. "Wait. She's from… from Rossum?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Torvalds replied. He was really beginning to enjoy this.

"How long?"

Torvalds shrugged. "God only knows, sir."

* * *

**8:00 PM**

The black Escalade pulled up in front of the Sofitel, and a valet darted forward to open the back door. Chuck Bartowski climbed out, and turned to help Carrie.

He had to admit, she looked positively amazing. She was wearing red, a color Chuck had never liked on Sarah, but which worked brilliantly for Carrie. With a low cut front, an even lower cut back, and a slit that went nearly up to her right hip, she would serve as an ample distraction in the event Chuck flashed on anybody.

Chuck had asked her about the length of the slit in her dress, commenting on how it was nearly indecent. Carrie had smiled and replied, "In addition to distracting men, it also makes it much easier for me to reach my gun."

"Hard to debate that logic," Casey had grunted from the front seat.

Sure enough, the head of every man in the hotel lobby turned as Chuck and Carrie passed through. "Recognize anybody?" Carrie whispered to Chuck. Though she had not been informed of the dueling super-computers residing in Chuck's head, she had been told that he was very familiar with the faces of a large number of Fulcrum agents.

Chuck shook his head. "Nobody yet," he replied.

They entered the ballroom, and despite the crush of people they walked into, Chuck didn't flash on anybody. That was a discouraging sign. If there was a room full of Roark people who weren't in the Fulcrum Intersect, then this was going to be a very difficult and unproductive night.

A man Chuck didn't recognize – or flash on, for that matter – stood up in front of the room with a microphone. "Good evening, everybody!" he said. "Welcome to the Sofitel, and thanks for coming tonight. I know you're all as pleased as I am to be here. Mr. Roark wanted to be here himself, but he's… he's got pressing matters to see to."

_Yeah, I bet he does_, Chuck thought bitterly.

"Anyway, our guest of honor will be out in a few minutes. In the meantime, enjoy the cocktails, and in a few minutes, we'll be thanking Bill Bergey for twenty-five years of service with Roark Instruments!"

And that was what did it. Chuck heard the name "Bill Bergey", and his vision dimmed for a moment –

_A dossier on William "Bill" Bergey  
An NSA report listing Bergey as a major Fulcrum recruiter  
An office building with an address on Mulholland Drive  
A very nasty looking mug shot of Bergey  
An exploding CSX locomotive  
The Fulcrum logo_

"Oh, shit," Chuck whispered. Carrie looked over at him. "Bill Bergey," Chuck said to her quietly but urgently. "He's a big Fulcrum player."

Carrie's eyes widened. "Okay," she replied. "I'll go see if I can find the guest of honor. Will you be alright here?"

Chuck stiffened, and looked around – and then caught the sight of a very familiar-looking waiter. "Yeah, I'll be fine," he replied.

Carrie nodded and quickly disappeared. Chuck approached the waiter, and took a flute of champagne from his tray. "Where's Rozelle?" Casey growled.

"She's off to find the guest of honor," Chuck replied. "He is a big-time Fulcrum recruiter."

"Right," Casey said. "You flash on anybody else, you let me know immediately, _capisce_?"

"Roger that," Chuck muttered.

Chuck wandered around the ballroom, but to no avail. Either this was the most Fulcrum-less Roark event of all time, or the Intersect had decided that it didn't want to play tonight. Either way, Chuck was starting to get bored.

Inexplicably, a hush fell over the ballroom. From the midst of the quiet, Chuck heard a note ring out on a piano, and then another. The series of notes quickly turned into a song – a song that Chuck recognized immediately.

His breath catching in his throat, Chuck pushed his way toward the piano. It was up on a stage, and he couldn't risk exposing himself up there –

But there was no mistaking the woman sitting at the piano. Her hair was shorter and black, and her eyes were inexplicably green, but –

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

Chuck turned to his right. There was a man standing next to him, clearly military. He was about Chuck's height, but definitely in better shape. He had piercing blue eyes, and was dressed in a very expensive suit.

"Very," Chuck murmured, fighting hard to keep the grin off his face.

The other man looked at him curiously. "Do you know her?"

"I think so," Chuck said quietly. "I mean, she looks different, but…"

He froze as what felt unmistakably like a gun pressed into his back. "Hello, Mr. Bartowski," he heard a now-familiar voice say.

Chuck turned around slowly, to see the seemingly unkillable Vincent looking at him. "You again," Chuck muttered, shaking his head.

"It's time to go, Mr. Bartowski," Vincent said quietly. "You are going to walk out the door, and not look back, because Mr. Roark, for whatever reason, wants you alive. Thinks it gives your father more motivation or something."

* * *

Don McKay watched as Roark's security chief led the young man he had called "Mr. Bartowski" away. It was clear that the young man had recognized Juli- Blair, and that was a bad thing. He needed to get her out of here, right now, before anybody else saw her.

She finished the song she was playing, and stood up from the piano, to a round of applause. Smiling, she approached the edge of the stage, and descended the stairs.

McKay stepped over to her. "Blair, we need to go," he said quietly.

Blair frowned. "But, Mr. Bergey hasn't even had the chance to –"

"It's time for your treatment, Blair," McKay interrupted her firmly.

She sighed. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

Vincent Torvalds had gotten Chuck maybe halfway through the lobby when they were intercepted by Carrie Rozelle, escorting a handcuffed and gagged Bill Bergey. "What the hell?!" Vincent exclaimed.

Vincent's gun came up, but just as he pulled the trigger, Chuck picked up his right foot and stomped on Vincent's instep as hard as he could. Vincent howled, and his shot went wide – right into the forehead of Bill Bergey.

The Fulcrum recruiter slumped to the floor, eyes glassed over. Carrie looked down at him in dismay, and then brought up her Five-Seven, putting a round right between Vincent's eyes.

Chuck yelped and dove for the floor as the bullet rocketed past his head. "Get up!" Carrie ordered him as the screaming populace of the lobby began to evacuate.

Chuck stood and looked in horror at Bill Bergey. "He… I – I made Vincent –"

"It's your first kill, Chuck," Carrie said matter-of-factly as she began moving toward the exit. She opened her phone and pressed a button. "This is Brick Road," she announced. "We are code black, moving to the Beverly Center."

Chuck looked at her in disbelief. "Brick Road?"

"Not now, Chuck," Carrie said. "We need to get out of here."

Still in disbelief at what had just occurred in the hotel lobby, Chuck followed Carrie out the door of the hotel. They moved to the curb and were about to cross Beverly Boulevard when a black Dodge van rounded the corner and blew past, close enough that the wind flipped Chuck's tie over his shoulder.

"Jackass," Carrie growled, dragging Chuck into the street. They ran across six lanes of traffic, entering the underbelly of the Beverly Center through the service entrance.

Chuck wrinkled his nose at the smell of the trash compactors. Carrie pulled out her phone and was about to make another call when they heard a voice behind them.

"Both of you, freeze where you are, and turn around very slowly," a man's voice said.

_Crap_, Chuck thought. Fulcrum was going to be VERY pissed with them.

He turned around to see a very annoyed looking man in a black suit holding a gun on them. "Look," Chuck said, "I don't know who you are –"

"FBI," he replied. "Shut up."

Chuck looked over at Carrie, who had raised an eyebrow. "Uh, you're making a very big mistake," she said.

"No, you're the ones who made the mistake," the FBI agent shot back. "I saw you –" he pointed his gun at Chuck "- talking to the handler from the Dollhouse. What do you know?"

Chuck couldn't help it. He laughed in disbelief. "The Dollhouse?" he asked. "Since when does the FBI subscribe to urban legends?"

The FBI agent narrowed his eyes. "I'm not kidding," he growled. "What do you –"

He was interrupted by the squealing tires of a Cadillac Escalade screeching to a halt behind him. The agent whirled around to aim his gun at the driver, just as John Casey leapt out.

"Drop your weapon!" the FBI agent growled. "FBI!"

Casey smiled. "Bitch, please," he shot back. "NSA. Drop YOUR weapon."

The agent's weapon dropped slightly, a look of confusion appearing on his face. He turned back toward Chuck and Carrie. "Then you…"

"Secret Service," Carrie replied.

Chuck shrugged. "CIA," he said with a sheepish smile.

The FBI agent lowered his gun all the way. "Crap," he said, shaking his head. "I'm Agent Paul Ballard."

Carrie narrowed her eyes. "I know that name," she said. "Aren't you on suspension right now?"

Ballard shook his head. "Yeah, but this is too important," he replied. "Do you people have any idea what you've gotten yourselves into?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow and suppressed the urge to laugh. "I might ask you the same question."


	6. The Arcade Fire

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 5 – "The Arcade Fire"**

_**Author's note:**__ Congratulations to __**SarahLisaWalkerFan101**__ for figuring out the double-layered shout-out to fanfic writer __**brickroad16**__. Little disappointed that nobody caught the other hidden surprise. As any good Browncoat knows, on one of Joss Whedon's myriad OTHER_ _shows, _Firefly_, Jayne Cobb – who is played by __**Adam Baldwin**__ – carries a gun which he has nicknamed Vera. That gun just happens to be a modified Saiga-12 shotgun – the kind of gun Casey was cleaning at the beginning of the chapter._

**CAST (in order of appearance):  
**Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Don McKay – Brian Austin Green  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Ted Roark – Chevy Chase  
General Diane Beckman – Bonita Fredericy

* * *

**9:30 PM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Thursday, April 9****th****, 2009  
The Beverly Center, Los Angeles, CA**

Paul Ballard looked suspiciously at the Secret Service agent and the CIA agent over the sights of his FBI issued Glock 22. He didn't know whether or not to trust these people – after all, he had seen the one who identified himself as CIA talking directly to Major Donald McKay, US Army, retired – a person that one of his sources had ASSURED him was now working for the Dollhouse.

Couple that with the fact that he had seen McKay and a very attractive woman depart the hotel and get into a Dodge van which had driven off at breakneck speed – it was too much to discount. However, the NSA gorilla standing behind him had a Glock 37 pointed at his back, and Ballard knew that if he tried anything, that would be it. There would be no more walking, let alone trying to take down the Dollhouse.

"Crap," he muttered, shaking his head as he lowered his gun. "I'm Agent Paul Ballard."

The Secret Service agent gave him a weird look. "I know that name," she said. "Aren't you on suspension right now?"

Ballard sighed in frustration. "Yeah, but this is too important," he answered. He laughed in sheer astonishment at the situation. "Do you people have any idea what you've gotten yourselves into?"

A look of askance humor appeared on the CIA agent's face. "I might ask you the same question," he replied. "Do you have the slightest clue who the people hosting that party were?"

"Roark Instruments," Ballard said with a shrug. "So?"

That's when the CIA agent really did laugh. "Are you sure that's all you know, Agent Ballard?"

"What are you saying, Bartowski?" the NSA thug asked from behind Ballard. "You gettin' something on this guy?"

The CIA agent – _his name's Bartowski?_ – shook his head. "No," he said slowly, "but that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"Alright," the Secret Service agent interjected, drawing her gun. "I need you to get on your knees, Agent Ballard."

Ballard's eyes widened. "What? What did I do?"

She shrugged. "You were conducting operations without authorization, while on suspension. That alone is enough to place you under arrest."

Bartowski smiled. "That, and we need to figure out how you're connected to Fulcrum."

Ballard's jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"

"Aw, goddammit, Bartowski!" the NSA agent groaned behind Ballard. "You never, EVER play your ace in the hole this early!"

"Wait, wait!" Ballard said, standing up. He turned toward the NSA agent. "Ace in the hole? Are you kidding? Fulcrum's a fairy tale, a bogeyman made up to scare rookie CIA agents!"

He heard a snort of laughter behind him. "Riiiight," Bartowski drawled. "Listen, pal, I can ASSURE you that Fulcrum's very real and very dangerous, mostly because I've been in their custody – how many times would you say, Casey?"

The NSA agent – _Casey?_ – snorted. "Enough times to make sure my hair's completely gray by Christmas," he shot back.

Ballard's mind went into overdrive. _Bartowski. Casey. I've heard those names before. Where have I heard those names before?_

Then his breath caught. THAT was where he had heard those names before. He turned back to Bartowski. "You," he said, pointing. "You're Chuck Bartowski." He turned back to Casey. "And you're John Casey! I KNEW I knew those names! They were both on the report from the hostage situation at that Buy More back on Christmas Eve!"

He spun around to face the Secret Service agent. "And that must make you Sarah Walker," he finished, his face breaking into a grin. "Holy crap. You know you're a legend, right?!"

But the Secret Service agent just narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "My name is Carrie Rozelle," she replied. "Who the hell is Sarah Walker?"

Behind Ballard, John Casey's eyes closed. "Shit," he whispered, cocking his gun. Ballard heard the noise, and his hands shot up in the air.

"Casey!" Chuck said, a note of warning in his voice. "Fed-er-al ag-ent!"

Casey growled. "Fine," he grumbled. "Get in the truck. All of you. We'll sort this out back in Burbank."

He reached out and grabbed Ballard's arm. "You're ridin' up front, where I can keep an eye on you," he said. "Bartowski, Rozelle, load up."

As Chuck and Carrie climbed into the backseat of the Escalade, she looked across at him. "I ask again, who the hell is Sarah Walker?"

Chuck sighed. "Uh, Casey?"

Casey shook his head. "Whatever," he replied. "Tell her."

As Casey maneuvered the Escalade around to exit out to La Cienega Boulevard and head AWAY from the Sofitel, which was now being swarmed by Los Angeles Police, Chuck began to explain. "You know how you were assigned to temporarily fill a vacancy?"

"Yeah," Carrie replied.

"Well, it's a vacancy that was created by Sarah Walker. She was part of this team until about four days ago, at which point, she… inexplicably disappeared." He sighed. "We've had absolutely no leads on her. Well, until tonight."

At that, Casey slammed on the brakes, the Escalade fishtailing to a stop in the middle of the intersection of La Cienega and Third Street. "What the HELL do you mean until tonight, Bartowski?" he barked, as a BMW behind them honked its horn.

"Casey, drive," Chuck replied. "Drive, and I'll explain to you too."

Casey grumbled, but started driving again, as the BMW pulled out and shot around them. "JACKASS!" the driver howled as he passed.

"Yeah, fuck you too," Casey muttered. "Bartowski, start talkin'."

"Okay," Chuck replied. "So, after I told you that Carrie was going to go find Bill Bergey, did you hear somebody start playing the piano?"

"Yeah," Casey said. "And?"

"Well…" Chuck paused. "The song that was being played is called 'Wake Up'. It's by the Arcade Fire, and it was on the very first mix CD I ever made for Sarah."

"The first mix CD, Bartowski?" Casey asked, a note of scorn in his voice. "Exactly how many have you made her?"

Chuck sighed. "One a month," he said quietly. "One a month since she got here. I… haven't gotten to give her this month's yet."

Casey rolled his eyes and shook his head. "God save the world from nerds with romantic intentions," he muttered as he turned left onto Wilshire. "Continue."

"Anyway, I had this feeling that it was her, so I went over to the piano was – and Casey, she had short black hair and green eyes, but I swear to you, it was Sarah."

"Wait a second," Ballard interrupted. "The woman with the short black hair and green eyes… her name tonight was Blair Channing… but she's an Active at the Dollhouse. The man you were talking to next to the piano, his name's Don McKay. He's a retired US Army major, and I think he's her handler."

Chuck's breath caught in his throat. "Wait a second," he said quietly. "So you're saying that Sarah's an Active?"

"Not possible," Casey cut in. "I've been hearing things about Sarah Walker since 1999. She really is a legend."

"I know, Casey," Chuck replied. "I went with her to her high school reunion, remember? I've met her dad. I know she's for real. But I think Agent Ballard's saying she's an Active now."

Casey snorted. "In the mythical Dollhouse."

"Hey," Ballard retorted, "if Fulcrum can be real, there's no reason the Dollhouse can't be, right?"

Casey mulled that over for a moment. "Fair enough," he finally said.

"May I interrupt here?" Carrie asked.

Chuck turned toward her. "Yes?"

"I think we really need to talk to Mo – uh, General Beckman," she said, stumbling over her sentence. "This sounds like a pretty serious issue."

"You're right," Casey said. "But Rozelle, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Brick Road?! Seriously?"

* * *

**12:30 AM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Friday, April 10****th****, 2009  
Rossum Tower, Wilshire & Westwood**

Adelle DeWitt really did not like being in her office at this time of night. She liked even less being in her office when Laurence Dominic was present at this time of night.

But what she liked least of all was being in her office at this time of night, waiting for an angry client to show up, with her chief of security and an Active's handler present. This was going to be ugly.

"Gentlemen," she said quietly, getting Dominic and McKay's attention. Both men turned their heads toward her. "Do we all have our story straight?"

Dominic looked to McKay. "You're leadin' on this one, McKay," he said sourly. "This was your engagement, and I'm not takin' a hit here."

"Nobody is taking a hit," DeWitt snapped. "Major McKay –"

McKay raised an eyebrow. DeWitt had never addressed him as "Major" before. "Yes, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "Just be as truthful as you can. This man is far too powerful for us to try to dissemble with."

"Understood," McKay replied, sighing. This was not going to be pretty.

Silence fell over DeWitt's office. It felt like nearly an hour passed, but in reality, it was a mere five minutes later when a bell dinged, announcing the arrival of the elevator.

A moment later, a small hurricane roared into DeWitt's office. "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED OUT THERE?!" roared Ted Roark, marching straight up to DeWitt's desk and slamming his hands down.

Adelle calmly raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Roark. Thank you for coming in. We have some things we need to discuss."

"You're goddamn straight we do!" Roark shouted back. "My chief of security engages an Active to be pretty arm candy for my top corporate recruiter, and they both end up DEAD?! What the hell kind of operation are you running here?"

DeWitt sighed, trying to swallow her pride. "Mr. Roark, I can assure you that we run a perfectly safe and secure operation," she replied. "If you'll take a seat, the Active's handler can explain to you the situation as he saw it. Major McKay?"

_That's twice now_, McKay thought. Roark didn't take a seat, but fell quiet, staring directly at McKay. "Mr. Roark, my name's Don McKay, US Army Ranger, retired," he introduced himself. "I'm the handler for the Active known as Juliet. Tonight, she was posing as Blair Channing, a Beverly Hills socialite, and Mr. Bergey's date for the evening.

"We arrived at the Sofitel at 1930 hours. I escorted Juliet inside, where we were met by your chief of security, Mr. Torvalds. He then escorted us to a conference room, where I was separated from Juliet briefly. I assume that he was introducing her to Mr. Bergey. I don't know if there was more than just introduction, but that's none of my business."

Roark laughed bitterly. "There wasn't anything else," he muttered. "Go on."

"Anyway, about ten minutes later, she reappeared, with Mr. Bergey. I trailed at a distance to avoid suspicion, and kept an eye on Juliet throughout the evening. At just after 8:00 PM, Mr. Bergey was called away to an urgent phone call. At that point, Juliet was separated from him, and appeared bored. Upon seeing the ballroom piano, she went to it and began playing.

"Less than a minute after she began playing, a man about ten years younger than myself approached the stage on which the piano sat. From the way he looked at Juliet, it was clear to me that he recognized her – and that could prove to be disastrous. I asked if he knew her, but before I was able to get a firm answer out of him, your chief of security appeared behind him. He called him Mr. Bartowski, and escorted him out of the room –"

"Wait, WAIT!" Roark interrupted. "He called him what?!"

"Mr. Bartowski," McKay replied. "Do you know that name, sir?"

"Motherfucking goddammit son of cocksucking bitch!" Roark shouted, looking like he wanted to kick something. "Fuck!"

"Mr. Roark," Adelle said, a note of disapproval in her voice, "is there a problem?"

"Nothing," Roark growled. "Continue."

McKay nodded. "A moment later, Juliet finished the song she was playing. I informed her that we needed to depart immediately. As we were heading toward the dock where the van was parked, I heard gunfire come from the direction of the lobby. I then conducted an emergency egress with Juliet.

"As the van passed by the hotel on Beverly Boulevard, I was able to get a very brief glimpse of the situation in the lobby. Both Mr. Torvalds and Mr. Bergey were down. In addition, the van came very close to running over this Mr. Bartowski, who almost darted into the street in front of us. He was accompanied by a woman about his age. She was carrying a government-issue handgun, and I'm assuming she probably had something to do with the shootings."

Roark shook his head – and then, without another word, turned and stormed back out of the room. McKay and Dominic both looked at Adelle. Finally, McKay spoke. "Ma'am, was Juliet imprinted with piano playing skills?"

DeWitt looked at her desk for a moment. "No, she was not," she finally said.

"So, in other words, this was another ingrained skill from her prior life appearing," McKay mused. "Ma'am, this is not a good situation."

"Thank you, Major," DeWitt replied acidly, giving him a dirty look. "Nonetheless, I hardly find the ability to play the piano a skill that should cause any alarm."

She rose from her desk, looking tired. "Gentlemen, you're both dismissed. Major, I want you to go downstairs and discuss this situation with Topher. Laurence, you're free for the evening."

Dominic gave DeWitt an odd look. "Ma'am, shouldn't I be around for this discussion as well?"

DeWitt sighed. "Laurence, I need you fresh and alert. If the worst occurs and Juliet does turn into another Alpha, I need you ready to respond immediately."

Dominic nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

The two men departed DeWitt's office. Neither spoke as they rode down in the elevator, Dominic disembarking at the parking garage. He crossed quickly to his Mercedes coupe, and drove out onto Wilshire.

He headed west on Wilshire, until he reached Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica. He turned left, and headed south until he reached the parking lot for Pacific Park.

Dominic pulled in and parked next to the only other vehicle in the lot – a red Corvette. He got out of his car, and got into the Corvette. "Sir, don't you think there is a less conspicuous place we could have met?"

Ted Roark turned to Dominic. "Mr. Dominic, I'm one of the most powerful men in Los Angeles. Nobody's going to mess with me."

Dominic sighed. "Yes, sir."

Roark nodded. "So, we are going to be moving Orion from the Mulholland facility to Black Rock. I need a driver whose memory can be wiped afterwards."

"No problem, sir," Dominic replied. "I'll get it set up through one of the shell corporations."

"Excellent," Roark said. "Now, Laurence, you do understand the gravity of the situation here, correct?"

Dominic sighed. "Yes, sir. Fulcrum suffered a serious loss tonight."

"Yes, we did," Roark muttered. "I don't want to see it happen again." He turned and looked at Dominic. "How would you feel about becoming chief of security for Roark Instruments?"

"Don't believe I'd want that, sir," Dominic replied. "After all, Rossum pays me far more than Roark ever did."

Roark laughed bitterly. "Right. God forbid we should see any fealty to Fulcrum here."

Dominic snorted. "Sir, it's not going to matter after Orion finishes the Intersect."

"Right," Roark shot back. "Just, do me a favor, would you? Make sure his son doesn't come sniffing around anymore. I'd hate to have to kill him."

* * *

**2:00 AM  
Echo Park**

Chuck knew that he should be asleep. In point of fact, his body was exhausted. However, his mind kept replaying Bill Bergey's death, over and over.

It wasn't the first time he had seen somebody killed – and that, in and of itself, was a very disturbing thought. However, it was the first time he had really been anything close to directly responsible for somebody's death.

Sure, Bergey had been a big-time Fulcrum operator, but he was still a human being. That was the part that Chuck was having a serious problem with.

And so, he lay in his bed, staring at his TV, old episodes of _Dragonball Z_ running in mute in front of him. It came as quite a shock when the screen went blank for a moment, and General Beckman's face appeared.

"General!" Chuck said, sitting up in bed.

"_Bartowski_," she replied with a yawn. "_I'll make this brief, as I am tired_."

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck said. "You do look – I mean – well, you know."

Beckman nodded. "_I have just finished debriefing Agents Casey, Rozelle, and Ballard_," she began. "_Now, there's something I want you to understand about the Dollhouse, Mr. Bartowski. It is a very, very powerful organization – more so than even the NSA. If Agent Walker is inside there, then I'm afraid that there's very little we can do to retrieve her._"

"But –" Chuck began to protest, only to be cut off by General Beckman.

"_Mr. Bartowski, you have to understand. They are untouchable. I have had two agents go inside Dollhouses in the United States and simply disappear. Nobody can do anything about it. That's why it is imperative that your team continue searching for Orion. Agent Ballard will be temporarily attached to the team; however, I cannot allow him to attempt to go up against the Dollhouse. It would be disastrous._"

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck replied, beginning to feel despondent. Here he had found Sarah, and now he wasn't going to be able to save her. "But Sarah –"

"_Chuck_," Beckman said, her voice taking on a far gentler tone than usual. "_I understand your concern for Agent Walker. But you are our most important asset in the fight against Fulcrum, and I cannot allow you to risk that by taking on an outside mission._"

Beckman paused for a moment, her face taking on a thoughtful look. "_However… if you were to, shall we say, conduct an independent investigation, there would be certain resources that you might need._"

Chuck's eyes widened. "General – uh – what are you saying, ma'am?"

A tiny smile cracked Beckman's face. "_First thing tomorrow morning, check your mailbox. There will be instructions._"

And without another word, the screen went black.


	7. Almost Complete

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 6 – "Almost Complete"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
Devon Woodcomb – Ryan McPartlin  
General Diane Beckman – Bonita Fredericy  
Morgan Grimes – Joshua Gomez  
Lester Patel – Vik Sahay  
Jeff Barnes – Scott Krinsky  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau  
Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett  
Don McKay – Brian Austin Green  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams

* * *

Chuck slowly drifted through that murky plain between sleep and wakefulness. He felt like he had just run a marathon. Movement didn't exactly hold much of an appeal.

But wait. What was touching his hand? It felt like the soft touch of a finger being run along his index finger. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open –

To find himself looking at the back of Sarah's head. Chuck's breath caught in his chest. When had she come back? For that matter, _how_ had she come back?

And as Chuck took in his surroundings, he started wondering what the hell he was doing in what appeared to be a cheap motel room. But it didn't really matter, did it? Because here he was, in bed, his hand being caressed by Sarah Walker…

Who had just turned over to face him. Chuck stared at her for a moment, unable to breathe, unable to think. Her eyes stared directly into his –

And then he moved. It amazed Chuck just how quickly he moved, but before he realized it, his lips had crashed into Sarah's. He kissed her with an urgency that was only equaled by her own. She quickly pushed Chuck upward, trying to sit up, to gain the superior position, but she fell back down again.

It didn't matter. They were beyond the point of caring who was where – although Chuck was starting to wonder about the inexplicable Bon Iver track playing in the background. He kissed Sarah again, then pulled back, and smiled at her. He leaned in, and kissed her one more time, and then pulled away.

"Don't move," he breathed. "Don't move."

"Okay," Sarah whispered back.

"Don't breathe. Don't move. Don't breathe, don't move!"

As Chuck dashed toward the bathroom he caught a glimpse of Sarah falling backward on the bed, a huge smile on her face. "Stay there, stay there, stay, STAY!" he ordered frantically as he burst through the bathroom door.

He dug into the pocket of the work pants he had left hanging on the back of the door after showering the night before, and triumphantly pulled out his wallet. He pulled the wallet open and dug his fingers into the small pocket that he hadn't needed to access since November…

To find a slip of paper? What the hell?!

He pulled out the paper, and unfolded it. _IOU one condom_, it said. _Your pal, Morgan_.

"No," Chuck breathed. "No, this is not happening. I'm gonna kill you, Morgan. You cock-blocking little son of a-"

* * *

**8:30 AM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Friday, April 10****th****, 2009  
Echo Park**

Chuck slowly came to wakefulness. Somebody was knocking at his door.

_It was all a dream_, he thought bitterly. Looking over at his alarm clock, he saw that it had been going off for fifteen minutes. Bon Iver's "Creature Fear" was playing softly over the radio.

"Yeah," he groaned tiredly.

The door cracked open, and Devon poked his head in. "Morning, Chuck!" he said with a grin. "Time to be up and at 'em!"

Chuck sighed and rolled his eyes. "Since when do you say that?"

"I don't know," Devon replied with a shrug. "Dad used to say it. So… I guess, I got it from him."

_Why am I not surprised_, Chuck thought, remembering his one encounter with Woody Woodcomb. It seemed like the type of thing the Elder Awesome would say.

"This was in the mailbox for you," Devon said, tossing a package on the bed. "Any clue what it is?"

Chuck looked down at the package, the telltale DNI stamp in the upper left corner telling him exactly what it was. _Yeah, Devon, it's from the Directorate of National Intelligence_, Chuck thought. "Probably a video game beta or something," he said.

"Cool," Devon replied, turning to exit the room. But before he left, he stopped. "Chuck?"

"Yeah, Devon."

"Listen, bro. Do you have any idea when Sarah's gonna be back?"

"Uh… honestly, no clue," Chuck replied. _Sorry, Devon, she's locked up in a Dollhouse right now_.

Devon turned back to Chuck, a concerned look on his face. "Look, Chuck, I know the wedding's still two weeks off and all, but Sarah is a bridesmaid, and Ellie's starting to get a little nervous. First your dad walks out on her again, and now she might lose a bridesmaid."

"No," Chuck said, stopping Devon. "She's not going to lose a bridesmaid. And I WILL find our dad."

Devon looked at Chuck, and then grinned. "Of course you will, Chuck," he said. "I trust you."

Chuck breathed a sigh of relief as Devon left the room – and as soon as the door shut, the television snapped on.

"_Good morning, Mr. Bartowski_," General Beckman said, looking far more refreshed than she had six hours before.

"General," Chuck replied.

"_I must say, you handled that fairly well. I'm not sure Dr. Woodcomb believed you completely, but I think you have yourself covered for now._"

"Oh, well, thank you for the vote of confidence," Chuck shot back sardonically. "Not like I could tell him that my dad's actually under the thumb of a shadow domestic terror organization, and Sarah's in the clutches of a human trafficking cabal, now could I?"

General Beckman raised an eyebrow at Chuck's outburst – and then said something that he never would have expected. "_You could_."

Chuck looked back at the General in astonishment. "Are you kidding, General?"

Beckman shook her head. "_Not at all, Bartowski_. _Dr. Woodcomb is a highly intelligent individual, he's trained in multiple martial arts, and he IS an M.D. He could be highly useful to your team._"

"No," Chuck retorted. "No. Absolutely not. There is no way I'm going to make him lie to my sister like I do, especially not when he's two weeks away from the whole 'till death do us part' bit."

"_Very well_," Beckman replied calmly. "_I just ask that you consider it. Now, you received my package, yes?_"

"Uh, yeah," Chuck said. "I haven't had the chance to… open it… yet…"

As he spoke, Chuck reached out and grabbed the package, pulling it open. "_Inside the package, you'll find a DVD containing all the security tape for the Standard Hotel, from the time Agent Walker's car arrived there till the time her GPS chip departed the building. We have not had the opportunity to review it, so you'll have to do that._"

"Understood," Chuck replied distractedly, pulling out the DVD.

"_There is also a badge in there identifying you as a US Marshal,_" Beckman continued. "_That should open any avenues of inquiry you wish to undertake_."

Chuck looked up at Beckman as he pulled out the badge, a look of amused disbelief on his face. "Oh? And what happens when an LAPD officer runs this badge through the system and finds out that I'm a fake?"

"_They won't, Bartowski_," Beckman replied. "_They'll find the file of US Marshal Charles Carmichael. As of right now, you are officially and legally an undercover federal agent._"

Chuck shook his head in disbelief. "General, you can't be serious. I have no training."

"_You have Agents Casey, Rozelle, and Ballard to backstop you, Bartowski._" General Beckman paused. "_And for God's sake, start carrying a gun._"

"Oh, that sounds like a great idea," Chuck drawled sarcastically. Then he stopped, and thought for a moment. "General, why are you doing this?"

Beckman sighed. "_Walker's a good agent,_" she replied. "_She's one of the best. I cannot believe that she would go to this Dollhouse of her own volition, which means that she was either coerced or kidnapped. I don't care how much political clout the Rossum Company has, I will not stand by while they use a federal agent as a rich man's plaything._"

Chuck nodded. "Good reason, ma'am."

Beckman nodded, and then cut off the transmission. "Alright," Chuck breathed. "So, I guess it's up to me to plan this. That means… I'm going to need the help of some of the most devious minds I know."

Chuck reached out and snagged his iPhone. Dialing a number by memory, he held the phone to his ear. It rang four times before it was finally picked up. "_'lo?_"

"Morgan!" Chuck exclaimed. "Listen to me very carefully. I need you to get Lester and Jeff and meet me at the Denny's on Alameda."

"_Uh… okay, dude. When?_"

"As soon as possible."

* * *

**9:30 AM  
Burbank**

Chuck had been sitting in the booth for nearly fifteen minutes when Morgan finally walked in, Lester and Jeff in tow. "Took you long enough," Chuck muttered as the other three joined him in the booth.

"Well, Charles, in case you can't tell, Jeffrey is not exactly operating at one hundred percent," Lester shot back. "Emmett told him he has to come in on Saturday, and that did not make him happy."

Jeff pulled his sunglasses off to reveal bloodshot eyes. "Saturday's my happy day," he slurred.

_I don't even want to know what that means_, Chuck thought with a shudder. "So, Chuck, what's so important?" Morgan asked. "Are we getting a second crack at Awesome's bachelor party?"

Chuck's eyes widened. "Uh, hell no," he replied quickly. "No, this is actually about an idea I have for a video game."

That got the other three nerds' attention quickly. "Really," Lester said. "And, if we help you with this, Charles, when it gets published, we'll get credit?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!" Chuck replied rapidly. "But we really need to discuss this quickly."

"Yeah, yeah," Morgan said. "So, what's the basic idea?"

"Uh…" _Think, Chuck_. "Um, think the original _Super Mario Brothers_. Mission to rescue Princess Peach and all that. Except… instead of Mario, you have a US Marshal, and instead of Princess Peach, you have his girlfriend held captive. She's been captured by a, uh, a human trafficking ring which has managed to wipe her memory."

"You mean like the Dollhouse," Jeff said.

"Exactly!" Chuck replied. _Jeff's alcoholic perceptiveness amazes me sometimes_. "So, this US Marshal has to figure out a way to infiltrate the – let's just say the Dollhouse, find his girlfriend, get her memory unwiped, and get her back."

"Alright," Lester said. "Does this US Marshal have any backup?"

"An NSA agent, a Secret Service agent, and an FBI agent," Chuck said, without even thinking. Then his eyes widened as he realized what he had said. _Crap. Calm down, Chuck._

"Wellll…" Morgan looked at the ceiling, stroking his beard. "If we're assuming that this IS a Dollhouse, then one of the best routes to take would be to have your NSA agent use government money to contract out a Doll. Then, you use him or her to help you infiltrate the Dollhouse."

_As simple as that?_ Chuck thought in amazement. _And MORGAN came up with it?!_

"Just one problem, though, Morgan," Lester interjected. "You can't exactly just walk up to a Dollhouse and order a Doll. You have to know who to talk to. And for that, you need underworld contacts."

_Crap_, Chuck thought with a sigh. "Well, this US Marshal doesn't necessarily have any underworld contacts."

Jeff grinned and leaned forward. "Does he know anybody in prison?"

Chuck frowned. "Why?"

"Because," Jeff said, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "Usually, people in prison have underworld contacts."

_WAIT A SECOND_, Chuck thought. _Of course!_

He smiled and leaned toward Jeff – and then grimaced and leaned back again as he caught a whiff of bourbon. "As a matter of fact, he does."

* * *

**10:00 AM**

"No, no, NO!" John Casey practically exploded. "No possible way, Bartowski! I don't care if General Beckman made you the Chair of the Joint fucking Chiefs of Staff, I am NOT embarking on a mission that involves a Fulcrum agent who is under lock and key!" He turned toward Chuck, a look of disbelief on his face. "ESPECIALLY not a mission that was conceived by Larry, Moe, and Curly!"

"Insults to the Three Stooges aside," Carrie interrupted him, "it's actually not a half-bad idea."

Chuck and Casey both turned to look at Carrie – Casey in disbelief, Chuck in mild hope. "Really?" Chuck asked.

Carrie sighed. "It's a huge risk," she said, "and like General Beckman told you, we have to do this completely off the books."

"I got no problem with that," Ballard interjected from the corner of the room. "I've been investigating these scumbags off the books for months."

"Oh, good," Casey said sarcastically. "So I've got the Nerd, Mommy's Girl, and the Burn-Out all willing to take on a mission designed by Tweedle-Dee, Tweedle-Dum, and the Mad Hatter."

Carrie looked at Casey calmly, and then stood up and crossed over to him. Just as she reached him, she reached behind her back and whipped her Desert Eagle out of her waistband, tickling the underside of Casey's chin with the muzzle. "Don't EVER call me 'Mommy's Girl' again," she whispered. "Understood?"

Chuck looked over at Casey, unsure if the NSA agent looked afraid or turned on. _Please, dear God, let it be fear_, Chuck prayed.

"Understood," Casey finally spat. Rozelle nodded and backed away, still holding the massive handgun.

"Chuck," she said, turning to him, "you do understand, this whole thing is a huge risk, especially the part involving the Fulcrum agent."

"Yeah, I know," Chuck replied. "But here's the thing. This agent can not only help us get the contacts, but can also help us figure out where my dad is."

"Oh, good," Casey snorted. "The hunt for the idiot's father continues."

Carrie sighed and shook her head. "My only question is, are you sure it'll work?"

Chuck laughed half-heartedly. "Yeah, sure. Well, I guess, maybe thirty-five, forty percent sure."

* * *

**1:00 PM  
Westwood**

Don McKay exited the elevator as the doors opened into the office floor of the Rossum Building. He had come to the conclusion that he was spending more time up here than he was down in the Dollhouse, and that was beginning to bug him. He had a job to do. He was Juliet's handler, not DeWitt's problem solver. That was Dominic's job.

Nonetheless, she did sign his paychecks, so he would do as he was told.

McKay strode into Adelle DeWitt's office, trying to ignore the ball of nerves growing in the pit of his stomach. "Ms. DeWitt?"

She turned around, studying McKay as she faced him. "Major McKay," she said. "We have a situation."

"Okay…"

"Your Active has twice now demonstrated skills which should have been wiped when she her mind was wiped. There are those who believe that this is a cause for concern."

McKay smiled and shook his head. "Ma'am, we've been over this with the military training part," he said. "Juliet trained with the best. That training is ingrained in her, in her muscles, in her bones, in her nerves, as deeply as if it were part of her DNA. And as far as the piano playing – my guess is she's been playing since she was a little girl. Admittedly, it's a completely different skill set than the military training, but the basic idea is the same. Extensive training of any sort is nearly impossible to remove." His smile turned into a sarcastic grin. "Or didn't you see _The Bourne Identity_?"

DeWitt narrowed her eyes. "I do not waste my time with useless cinematic pablum, Major McKay," she replied. "However, the fact of the matter is, I agree with you. I believe that her actions are merely a product of training too deep to remove." DeWitt sighed. "However, Mr. Dominic, among others, disagrees with me."

"Oh, well, good for him," McKay shot back, doing his best to express his disdain for Laurence Dominic in those five words.

DeWitt raised an eyebrow. "I take it you don't approve of Mr. Dominic?"

McKay shook his head. "Ma'am, he acts like he's superior to all the handlers in every way. The fact of the matter is, he's a glorified security guard, while a number of the handlers have far more extensive security backgrounds. I'm a former Army Ranger. Langdon's a former LAPD detective. For God's sake, Wu used to be on the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team! The whole of Mr. Dominic's knowledge wouldn't equal the pinky finger of any of the three of us."

"How would you like to do something about that?"

McKay's breath caught in his chest. "Ma'am?"

"I want you to investigate Mr. Dominic," DeWitt replied. "Find out what you can about him. If he's dirty, we'll… take care of him." She smiled coldly. "And then, I'll need a new chief of security. Do you know anybody who might be interested?"

* * *

**6:00 PM  
Pelican Bay Supermax Detention Facility  
Crescent City, California**

Chuck didn't like being here, not one bit. However, the US Marshal badge that General Beckman had supplied him with had at least quickened things a little bit.

It was the eyes, though. The eyes of the convicts that stared at him through the tiny glass panels in their doors as he passed. They creeped him out.

"Carrrrmichael…"

When Chuck heard that sound, he almost wet his pants. He turned slowly, to see a very familiar set of eyes looking out at him. "Hello, Carmichael," Mr. Colt said from behind the door of his cell.

"Keep moving," Chuck whispered to himself. "Keep moving."

"Don't you want to chat, Carmichael?!"

By the time he reached the cell at the end of the hall, Chuck was practically running. Sure that Mr. Colt could no longer see him, he stopped and took a deep breath. _Alright, Bartowski, just get in, get out, get back to the Crown Vic and Casey_.

Had Chuck not been so terrified, he would've laughed at the irony, that Casey's Crown Vic would be a safe place. Instead, he braced himself, and swiped the key card that the warden had issued him.

A moment later, the light on the door handle turned green, and pushing hard against it, Chuck turned the handle. Slowly, the door swung open.

The occupant of the cell was looking at the floor, but looked up at Chuck as he entered the cell. There was silence for a moment.

Finally, Jill Roberts spoke. "Hello, Chuck."

Chuck sighed. "Hi, Jill."

* * *

_with  
__**Michael Clarke Duncan**__ as __**Mr. Colt**__  
and  
__**Jordana Brewster**__ as __**Jill Roberts**_


	8. The Economy of Mercy

_**In the Valley of the Shadow, **_**Chapter 7 – "The Economy of Mercy"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Jill Roberts – Jordana Brewster  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Boyd Langdon – Harry Lennix  
Don McKay – Brian Austin Green  
Topher Brink – Fran Kranz

* * *

**6:15 PM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Friday, April 10****th****, 2009  
Pelican Bay Supermax Detention Facility  
Crescent City, California**

Chuck sat at the cafeteria table, staring at Jill. She stared straight back at him… and seemed to stare through him.

_Five months_, Chuck thought to himself. _It's been almost five months that she's been in solitary confinement_.

The thought alone was almost enough to send him into paroxysms of guilt. She had been alone, by herself, for nearly half a year – and all because he had let her be arrested by the CIA.

"Jill," he said quietly. She didn't respond. "Jill," he said again, louder. This time, she seemed to focus on him.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said.

Jill sighed. "What for?"

"For you being in here," Chuck replied. "I mean, no matter what you did, you don't deserve to be locked up like this."

"I worked for Fulcrum," Jill said with a shrug. "I knew the risks going in. I just…" She stopped, seeming to search her thoughts. "I never thought you would wind up being the one to catch me."

Chuck nodded. "Life works in funny ways sometimes."

Jill leaned back – at least, she leaned back as far as the handcuffs binding her to the table would let her go. "Why are you here, Chuck?"

Chuck looked down at the table, trying to look away from Jill's restrained hands. "My dad," he said softly. "Fulcrum has my dad."

He looked back up, to see a look of concern on her face. "Your dad?" Jill echoed. "Why in heaven's name would Fulcrum have him?"

"Because he, uh, he designed the Intersect," Chuck replied. "You know what the Intersect is, right?"

Jill frowned. "I thought the Intersect Initiative was just a Fulcrum thing."

"Oh, if only it were that easy," Chuck snorted. "No, this goes way deeper than that. Fulcrum's got my dad, and they're making him rebuild it."

"And you came here hoping that I might be able to help you," Jill said, nodding.

"Something like that."

"I can't," Jill replied, a trace of sadness in her voice. "I wouldn't have a clue where he is. But…"

Chuck's eyes widened. "But?"

"But I might know somebody who can," Jill continued. "I'm not going to do it for free, though, Chuck."

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "You want a deal."

"I want a deal," Jill confirmed.

* * *

"Don't make a deal, Bartowski," Casey growled at the monitor. "You make a deal…"

"Lighten up, Casey," Carrie grumbled irritably. "When your father and your… well, whatever Walker was to Chuck… when they disappear, then we'll talk."

* * *

Chuck sighed. "Jill, technically, I'm not authorized to make a deal. However…"

Jill smiled faintly. "You think we can work something out?"

"I'll try," Chuck finished with a shrug. He started to get up from the table, but Jill stopped him.

"Chuck," she said. "That's not all, is it?"

Chuck sighed again, and sat back down. "No."

Jill regarded him for a moment, and then spoke again. "What is it, Chuck?"

"It's Sarah," Chuck replied. "She went missing, but we found her… as an Active at a Dollhouse."

Jill's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

Chuck grimaced. "I wish I was."

"Oh my God," Jill whispered. "How… how could that have happened?"

Chuck didn't say anything, just shrugging by way of reply. "Chuck," Jill continued, "you aren't actually thinking of taking on a Dollhouse, are you?"

"Yeah, sorta kinda," Chuck replied warily.

"That's insane, Chuck," Jill admonished him. "There's no way you'll ever get close enough. Why would you risk yourself that way? Why are you doing…"

Her voice trailed off as she saw the look on his face. "I can't believe I didn't notice before," she whispered. "You're in love with her."

"What?" Chuck protested. "No… I mean, she's my partner… and my friend, and I care about her –"

"Chuck," Jill said, raising a hand to cut him off. "Don't bother. I saw it when I was in L.A. back in November, and I can see it now. When you talk about her, you get this look on your face… and I know exactly what that look means… because you used to get it on your face when you talked about me."

Jill's voice faded off. "Jill…"

She shook her head. "You know what the worst day of my life was, Chuck?"

He looked into her eyes as she spoke. "It wasn't the day I was arrested. It wasn't even the day I came in here." Jill paused, and took a deep breath. "It was the day that Fulcrum told me I had to dump you."

"Jill, you can't do this to yourself –"

"Yes, I can, Chuck," she interrupted. "I never had to get involved with them. I didn't have to hurt you. It was stupid, and now I need to make it up somehow."

Jill sat up straight, and looked back at Chuck, a fire in her eyes. "I'll help you find Sarah. And I'll help you find your dad. I want to hurt Fulcrum. I want them to pay."

* * *

"Well, that was unexpected," Casey grumbled. "I wish they'd gone without the Oprah moment, though."

Carrie just shook her head. If she was Dorothy, then Casey was definitely the Tin Man – no heart.

* * *

**7:00 AM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Saturday, April 11****th****, 2009  
Rossum Building, Westwood**

"I think this is a supremely bad idea," Laurence Dominic grumbled.

"Your objection has been noted and logged, Mr. Dominic," Adelle DeWitt replied dryly. "The fact of the matter is, I believe that we have a mole in the Dollhouse. Agent Ballard has keyed into us somehow, and I want to know how. I want to know WHO."

She turned to Boyd Langdon and Don McKay. "That is why the two of you and your actives will be hunting for the mole. Echo is unmatched in her intuitive capabilities, and Juliet… well, we all know the extent of Juliet's training, now don't we?"

McKay narrowed his eyes. "I'm not so sure that imprinting Juliet as some sort of government agent is necessarily a good idea," he replied. "I'm afraid that having an imprint so close to her real life could, I don't know, set her off somehow."

Dominic nodded and pointed at McKay. "That's what I'm talking about."

"I think it's a valid concern as well," Langdon added.

Adelle looked from Dominic to McKay to Langdon in disbelief. "Since when do the three of you agree on anything?" she asked.

"Ma'am, when something makes sense, I tend to agree with the progenitor of the idea, regardless of whether I generally get along with them," Langdon replied. "It helps that Major McKay and I are generally in agreement on operations."

"Fine," Adelle said, shaking her head. "Use Sierra instead of Juliet for the NSA mission. However –"

She looked up at Topher, who had thus far been making himself as inconspicuous as possible in the corner of Adelle's office. "Topher, I want you to imprint Juliet with her original persona. Be very careful to remove any traces of Sarah Walker HERSELF, but re-imprint her with the rest of the federal agent persona." Adelle smiled at the three men in her office. "Despite your concerns, I believe that she can be of great assistance to us."

* * *

**7:30 AM  
Burbank**

Chuck and Jill sat at separate monitors in the Castle, poring over the Standard's security tapes from the night Sarah had disappeared. They had both rapidly discovered her in the bar, and even found when she walked out, but they were having trouble discerning things in between.

"Okay," Jill muttered, watching as Sarah left the bar and moved to the table with the as-yet unidentified woman. "So, she leaves the bar, she walks to the table – WAIT."

Chuck's head popped up from the other side of the table. "What?"

Jill leaned in close to the monitor. Backing the tape up a few frames, she selected a box around the unidentified woman's hand. "Can you enhance this, Chuck?"

Chuck came around the table, looked at the box, and tapped a few keys. The image zoomed in and clarified a little bit. "God DAMN," Jill whispered. "She drugged her!"

Leaning closer to the monitor, Chuck peered closely. Sure enough, the unidentified woman had a vial in her hand, and was in the process of emptying it into Sarah's drink. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Well, now we at least know Sarah didn't go voluntarily."

Jill sat back, and turned to look at Chuck. "Did you ever really for a moment think that she did?"

"I don't know, Jill," he replied with a sigh. "She was really pissed off at me the night that she disappeared. I mean, REALLY pissed. I don't think she would do anything that crazy, but anything's possible."

Jill cocked her head to one side. "Why was she so pissed at you?"

Chuck shook his head. "Earlier that night, after Roark captured my dad, I convinced General Beckman that we were the team that needed to go after him, that we were the best people for the job. Beckman – surprisingly – agreed with me.

"Sarah was infuriated. She couldn't believe that I would willingly risk my life like that. She really gave it to me for it." Chuck sighed. "Then I asked her what she would do if it was HER dad, and I got slapped for my troubles."

Jill frowned. That seemed a little strange. Without a word, she turned back to her monitor. Backing up the video another several frames, she stopped on a frame that had a very clear view of Sarah Walker's face. She selected a box around Sarah's face, and then zoomed in.

"Look at her, Chuck," Jill commanded him.

Chuck looked at Sarah. "Yeah, that's her," he sighed. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"God, you're an idiot sometimes," Jill muttered. "You're supposed to be seeing the look of fear and sadness on her face. It's a strange mix of emotions that a woman – hell, a person in general – when somebody that they love decides to go be a jackass and put their life in danger."

"Oh, come on," Chuck scoffed. "Sarah's not in love with me. Sure, she cares about me, but I'm just her asset –"

Jill reached out and grabbed Chuck's face in her right hand, squeezing it. "Chuck. Dumbass. Were you not listening last night when I told you about the look on your face when you talk about her?"

He shrugged, and attempted to speak through his squeezed mouth. "Yesh…"

"Believe me when I say, I noticed that same look on her face when I was here in November," Jill continued. "So, now I'm supposed to believe that five months later, nothing has happened between us?"

Chuck pulled his head backward, slipping out of Jill's grip. "Ow," he complained. "No. Nothing's happened between us. There was an incident on Christmas Eve, and then I got sick of holding my feelings back, and then there was this British agent –"

Jill held up a hand, shaking her head. "How many times did you tell her how you felt about her?"

"Probably three or four," Chuck replied with a shrug. "Why?"

"How many times did she tell you?"

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Well, never that I can think of." Then his eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. "But I never really…"

His voice trailed off, and Jill looked at him, amused interest on her face. "Yes?"

Chuck shook his head. "I never really gave her the chance."

"Of course you didn't," Jill replied. "You didn't give her the chance because you are the most impatient man I have ever known."

"I am not!" Chuck shot back. "I will have you know that I am a very pati-"

"September 21st, 1999," Jill interrupted, and Chuck's face immediately turned bright red. "Ah, I see you still remember!" she remarked, amused. "Our first time, and you just couldn't wait till we got back to my dorm, so we had sex IN THE LIBRARY."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," came a voice from above. Jill and Chuck looked up to see John Casey standing at the top of the stairs, a disgusted look on his face.

"Sorry, Casey," Chuck muttered.

Casey rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like _God save the world from nerds_. "Are you two quite done with your trip down memory lane?" he grumbled as he descended the stairs.

"Yes, Casey," Chuck replied. "We're also QUITE certain that Sarah didn't go into the Dollhouse voluntarily."

"Heh," Casey grunted. "I could've told you that myself. Walker's too good an agent."

"Well, good for you, Casey," Chuck shot back. "But I needed incontrovertible proof. Now we've got it."

Casey sat down. "Fine. Now what?"

"I know somebody who can get us in touch with somebody at Rossum," Jill said. "I understand you've got some sort of plan?"

"If you can call it that," Casey snorted. "It was drawn up by the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

Jill looked at Casey in confusion, then turned to Chuck. "Chuck… the Four Horsemen?"

Chuck sighed. "That would be Morgan, Jeff, Lester… and me."

"Oh dear God." Jill's face went pale. "We're dead."

* * *

**5:00 PM  
Westwood**

The elevator dinged, and Laurence Dominic strode out, escorting the potential new client. He was a tall man, and a dangerous looking one. The pair of grandfatherly glasses perched on his nose did nothing to lessen his air of intimidation. Even Dominic looked small next to him.

"Good afternoon," Adelle said, rising from her desk to cross the office. "You must be Mr. Cobb."

The client nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, a hint of a Texan accent coloring his voice. "Jayne Cobb."

Adelle raised an eyebrow. "Jayne," she mused. "Not normally a name you see attached to a man."

Mr. Cobb shrugged. "My parents really wanted a girl," he replied. "So they figured they'd modify the name a bit, and saddle me with it." He smiled. "I live with it."

"I see," Adelle said, directing Mr. Cobb to a seat. "May I offer you something to drink, Mr. Cobb?"

"No thanks," he replied. "I just need to get down to business. Car's waitin' for me outside and all."

Adelle nodded. "Very well, Mr. Cobb." Taking a seat next to him, she pulled out a notepad. "I understand you need an Active for a rather sensitive intelligence gathering mission."

"That's correct, Ms. DeWitt," Mr. Cobb said. "I'll be right up front with you – I work for the Department of Homeland Security. We're real concerned about all this increased drug violence we're seein' along the border –"

"Surely you're not thinking of sending an Active into what might as well be a war zone," Adelle interrupted, a sharp tone to her voice.

"No, ma'am, not at all," Mr. Cobb assured her. "We just need a nice lookin' woman to be on the arm of our FBI Special Agent in Charge from the Los Angeles office next Monday. There's a bit of an affair at the Mexican Consulate, and he'll be attendin'. We believe that the Defense Attache at the Consulate here is involved with one of the cartels, and we're lookin' to have her observe him." He paused. "You do understand why I need an Active for this, of course?"

Adelle nodded. "Absolutely. Plausible deniability, which of course is made all the simpler if the agent involved doesn't remember what occurred."

Mr. Cobb smiled grimly. "Bingo."

"Very well," Adelle replied. "I think we have an understanding. Now, we do, of course, have several women who would likely be acceptable to you. As far as the imprint, we can create a composite of a number of imprints we have in the system –"

"Actually, I'm gonna stop you right there," Mr. Cobb interrupted. "I was actually hopin' for somebody in particular."

Adelle frowned. "That is most irregular, Mr. Cobb," she said. She noticed a flash of annoyance pass over her face and quickly added, "Of course, given that the customer here is the federal government… I'm sure that certain allowances can be made."

"Good to hear," Mr. Cobb replied with a smiled. "Now, I'm goin' out on a limb here. The likelihood of you havin' access to an imprint from this particular person is slim to none. However, when I was with the CIA a few years back, I remember hearin' about this hot-shot agent who was second to none. She went off the grid completely a couple years back, and I figured that wherever she went, there was always a possibility she had an imprint of her mind done – you know, just in case."

"Of course," Adelle said. "We've had a number of our more wealthy clients do such things. I'm sure that it would make sense for a CIA agent facing a dangerous assignment to do the same thing."

Adelle turned her attention back to her notepad. "If you let me know the agent's name, I can get a search started worldwide for her imprint right away."

John Casey, a.k.a. Jayne Cobb, smiled grimly and leaned forward. "Sarah Walker," he said. "Her name was Sarah Walker."

* * *

_**Author's Note**__: Nominations are currently open for the __**2008-09 Awesome Awards for Excellence in Chuck Fanfic Writing**__, sponsored by the "TWoP Kicked Us Out, But We Still Love Chuck!" discussion forum._

_Nominations and voting are open to any and all fanfic readers. I would encourage you to visit www _• _fanfiction _• _net/topic/49974/14522145/1/ to nominate and vote (and maybe even read some stories you hadn't heard of before!)._

_On a more selfish note, but still related to this… I would like to submit three of my stories in particular for your consideration for nomination: "Chuck vs. the Beautiful Letdown", "Chuck vs. His Destiny", and "Anything." I consider those to be three of my best works, and I'm especially proud of them._

_Thank you for participating in this recognition of some of the best fanfic writers out there!_


	9. When the Walls Fall Down

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 8 – "When the Walls Fall Down"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Ted Roark – Chevy Chase  
Topher Brink – Fran Kranz  
Echo/"Sarah Walker" – Eliza Dushku  
Boyd Langdon – Harry Lennix  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Lester Patel – Vik Sahay  
Jeff Barnes – Scott Krinsky

* * *

**5:45 PM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Saturday, April 11****th****, 2009  
The Rossum Building, Westwood**

Adelle DeWitt sat behind her desk, staring in disbelief at the chair that up until two minutes ago had held a federal agent known only to her as Jayne Cobb. She could not begin to fathom the odds of that man coming into her house and asking her to imprint onto an Active a woman who had come in not five days prior.

However, as great as the odds were, it was also practically impossible that he could have known of the presence of Sarah Walker here. The Dollhouse didn't exist, officially, and they had operatives who would have made very sure that an agent of the Department of Homeland Security did not know that a former federal agent was now an Active.

"It's a trap," Dominic stated, barging into Adelle's thoughts. "It's a government trap. They're trying to take us down, and they'll do it from the inside if necessary."

Adelle slowly turned her head to look at Laurence Dominic. "Mr. Dominic," she replied, "what exactly do you believe are the chances of something like that succeeding?"

Dominic actually opened his mouth to reply, and Adelle held up a hand. "Rhetorical question, Mr. Dominic," she said, shaking her head. "You have to understand. The President has no clue we actually exist. Secretary Napolitano owes Rossum the continued security of the state of Arizona. We can pull the rug out from under Director Panetta far too easily. The only real wild card is General Beckman at the National Security Agency; however, she has not made a move on us in twenty years – I doubt that she would start now."

"I wish I had your confidence, ma'am," Dominic replied, a skeptical tone to his voice. "However, years in the private security industry taught me not to trust anybody, least of all federal agents. I think that this Agent Cobb is up to something, and I'm pretty certain that it's something that will not necessarily be beneficial to us."

"Agreed," Adelle replied. "So, this is what we're going to do. We're going to set a trap for Agent Cobb and whoever might come with him. I want Sarah Walker to be imprinted, in her entirety, onto Echo. However, I also want there to be a vocal trigger that would cause her to take down Cobb's entire team."

Dominic shrugged. "Simple enough. Pretty much the same thing we did with November and Agent Ballard, eh?"

"Exactly."

* * *

**7:30 PM  
Malibu Fish & Seafood**

Laurence Dominic sat by himself at a table on the patio, picking at his rapidly cooling fish and chips. Ordinarily, he would have devoured them with gusto, but something seemed off, and it was making him nervous.

"Jesus, Dominic, you look like a loser!" he heard the voice of his unofficial boss exclaim cheerily. Dominic looked up tiredly to see Ted Roark, dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, coming his way.

"Mr. Roark," Dominic offered wearily. "Thank you for coming, sir."

"You kidding?" Roark laughed. "I love this place! Fish and chips with a New Belgium Mothership… it cannot be beat!"

Dominic nodded. "Of course, sir."

Roark sat down across from Dominic. "So, what was so all-fire important that I had to leave the relative safety of my hidey-hole to come meet you for fish and chips?"

"John Casey, sir," Dominic replied.

"Who?" Roark asked, a confused look on his face. "Oh, that NSA agent, the one who works out of the Buy More in Burbank? What about him?"

"He came into the Dollhouse today, looking to hire an Active," Dominic replied. "Except, not just any Active. He asked DeWitt to imprint an active with CIA Agent Sarah Walker."

Roark's brow creased. "Isn't Walker one of your zombies?"

"More or less, sir," Dominic said. "That said, I think we have an opportunity here. We know that Casey and Walker have been working with Orion's son. I think that he and Casey, along with the Sarah Walker imprint, are going to attempt a takedown of the Dollhouse."

"And?" Roark gave Dominic an amused look. "I could quite frankly care less if a geek and an NSA agent attack the Dollhouse. It can only possibly end in tears for them. Bitter, bitter tears."

Dominic sighed. "With respect, sir, you're not thinking outside the box."

"Outside the box?" Roark snorted. "Dominic, I am the box. I created the box. The box runs on my software. I pay other people to think outside the box for me. Well, I don't pay all of them. One of them's being held fifty feet below an abandoned drive-in in Barstow, but that's irrelevant."

He fixed his gaze on Dominic. "So, how should I be thinking outside the box here?"

Dominic's face finally broke into the barest hint of a smile. "Capture Bartowski and Casey. Use them as leverage. Maybe then Orion will work a little bit harder."

Roark nodded approvingly. "Not a bad idea, Dominic. The problem, of course, is that my best strike team is all dead. Aside from that, though, not a bad idea."

Dominic's smile actually got bigger. "Now you're really not thinking outside the box, sir. You don't need a strike team."

Roark narrowed his eyes as he looked at Dominic… and then, his eyes widened, and a huge grin spread across his face. "Of course I don't," he whispered. "You've got one built in!"

* * *

**8:30 AM  
Sunday, April 12****th****  
Rossum Building, Westwood**

Topher sighed nervously as he stuck the external hard drive into the chair interface. He was not a fan of imprinting people in their entirety onto Actives. There was far too much potential to go wrong.

However, this particular person had been specifically requested, and so, Ms. DeWitt had ordered him to go ahead and set it up – with certain modifications, of course. The thing was, though – Topher wasn't sure how he felt about doing this particular imprint on Echo. It seemed like it would lead to disaster.

But orders were orders. "I just hope we never get caught," he muttered as he typed commands into his computer.

"What's that, Topher?" Boyd asked from the other side of the room.

Topher turned around, a quizzical look on his face. "Does it ever worry you that we might get caught someday?" he asked. "It'd be a nightmare. The courts would throw the human trafficking bit at us, and what would we have to say?"

"We were just following orders," Boyd replied with a shrug.

"Right," Topher snorted. "It didn't work at Nuremberg, it's not gonna work for Guantanamo, and it sure as HELL wouldn't work for us."

Boyd's voice took on a patiently amused tone. "Topher, we aren't committing mass murder, and we aren't torturing people. This is a very different situation."

Topher shook his head. "Right." Reaching out, he activated the imprint program.

_Not torturing?_ Topher thought to himself as he watched Echo's body twitch and her face contort. _Sure looks like torture to me_.

A moment later, the imprint process ended, and the chair tilted upwards. Echo's eyes opened –

"Okay, if we're done here, I really have to get back to my team," she insisted, standing up out of the chair.

"Agent Walker, I'm Boyd Langdon," Boyd said, stepping forward, hand extended. "We need to get you suited up, and then we'll get you to the rendezvous point."

"Sarah Walker" narrowed her eyes and looked directly at Boyd. "Mr. Langdon, no joke, we need to hurry. I'm working on a serious national security mission, and time is of the essence."

And with that, she breezed out of the room, clearly a woman possessed. "Right," Boyd muttered. "Never worked with the CIA before."

* * *

**9:00 AM  
The Orange Orange, Burbank**

Chuck Bartowski sat on the counter of the Orange Orange, tapping his fingers on the counter nervously. Casey, Ballard, and Carrie Rozelle were all downstairs, in the Castle, getting ready for the mission. He had been left up here to await Sarah's arrival.

_Remember the code names_, he told himself for the thousandth time. _They'll suspect something otherwise_.

A moment later, a black Suburban came to a halt in front of the Orange Orange. Chuck hopped off the counter as the back door opened. An African-American man who carried himself like a police officer stepped out, and then pulled open the door of the Orange Orange.

"You Reynolds?" he asked, with no preamble.

Chuck nodded. "Malcolm Reynolds," he replied. "I work with Mr. Cobb."

"Good," the man replied. "Boyd Langdon. I'm Agent Walker's handler."

It took all of Chuck's self-control to suppress a smirk at the idea of Sarah having a handler. First of all, there was the implicit irony of the handler being handled; second, there was the ridiculous thought that anybody could handle Sarah Walker. That would be like bending the spoon in the Matrix – impossible.

Chuck stepped outside and stood next to the Suburban. Langdon looked inside. "Agent Walker?" he asked. "This is Malcolm Reynolds. You'll be working with him and Mr. Cobb on this mission."

And that was when the world got turned on its ear. The woman who climbed out of the back of the Suburban was most definitely not Sarah Walker. Sarah was tall, blonde, and curvy. This woman was short, brunette, and athletic looking. But there was something –

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Reynolds," she said, extending her hand. And that's when Chuck knew – this WAS Sarah, but it wasn't. He saw the recognition in her eyes. He heard her voice behind this strange woman's, and the handshake – it was Sarah's handshake.

_Fuck_, he thought in despair. _They imprinted her onto somebody else!_

Of course, he had realized it was a possibility. However, he had hoped against all hope that they would imprint Sarah onto her own body. _This is rapidly turning into a gigantic clusterfuck_, Chuck thought.

"Mr. Langdon," he said, turning to the handler. "Thank you. This is where we'll have to leave you – I can't allow you into the secure facility."

Langdon raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Reynolds, this is a yogurt shop."

Chuck did his best to paint a sarcastic look on his face. "Mr. Langdon, do you honestly think we would keep our secure facility in a yogurt shop?"

"Uh…" Langdon looked taken aback – it was clear that he was used to being in control, and not being questioned in such a fashion. "No. Of course not."

"Glad to know it," Chuck replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now, if you wouldn't mind taking your leave of us? I'm sure you have monitoring equipment that will allow you to keep close track of Agent Walker's location."

Chuck turned, and without a backward glance, strode back into the Orange Orange. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets so that Langdon could not see them shaking.

Langdon put his hand on his Active's shoulder. "You trust me, right?"

She turned and looked up at Langdon. "With my life, of course."

"Good," Langdon said. "Be careful."

* * *

Chuck stood behind the counter of the Orange Orange, his head resting against the freezer door, his eyes closed. This was so wrong. Sarah was here, but she wasn't. How the HELL was he supposed to deal with this?

He heard the bell on the door ring, and he turned to see the Suburban pulling away from the Orange Orange, just as not-Sarah walked into the store. As he looked at her, a familiar smile crossed her face – but it was a smile that didn't belong on this woman's face.

"Chuck," she said quietly, a happy note to her voice. "Why all the subterfuge?" She laughed. "And seriously, Malcolm Reynolds? You have to come up with an alias that doesn't involve _Firefly_."

Chuck just shook his head and pulled open the freezer door. Keying in the code to open the access to the Castle, he said, "It's a complicated situation."

She shrugged. "You can explain it to me, Chuck. You know that. You can tell me anything."

Chuck laughed bitterly and turned to look at her. "Except I can't," he replied. "You're not really Sarah Walker."

But the look on her face when he said that told a different story. That WAS Sarah Walker behind the strange face, and she looked absolutely devastated. "What are you talking about, Chuck?" she asked, her voice filled with hurt. "Of course I am!"

Chuck sighed and looked at the floor. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his iPhone. "No," he said quietly, pulling up a picture of Sarah. He crossed the room, and handed the phone over. "This is Sarah Walker."

The woman who claimed to be Sarah Walker looked at Chuck, then at the phone. As she looked down at the image of the "real" Sarah Walker, Chuck heard her gasp. "Oh, God," she whispered. "That… that IS me… I know… what the hell?!"

Chuck looked back up, into her eyes. Her face was a mask of fear, and there was a wild look in her eyes. "Chuck, what's going on?!"

He couldn't help it. She may not have looked like Sarah, but she clearly WAS Sarah. Reaching out, Chuck embraced her, holding her against him. "I'm not the best person to explain," he said quietly. "You need to come downstairs, so that Casey and the other two agents working with us can explain what has happened."

* * *

He stood in front of the Buy More, watching with seeming disinterest as the black Suburban drove past. But his eyes missed nothing.

He had seen Echo go into the Orange Orange. He had seen her be drawn into the embrace of this Charles Bartowski – _HOW DARE HE TOUCH HER THAT WAY!_ – and then he had seen her follow him into a walk-in freezer, of all things.

He would never have expected to receive the call. He had no idea how Dominic had found him, but Dominic had made it quite clear that he wasn't seeking to put him in the Attic, or even seeking simple retribution. No, Dominic simply wanted his help in destroying a nuisance. Of course, he had made sure to say that while he was at it, a little untoward damage to the Dollhouse wouldn't be unfortunate.

_A LITTLE untoward damage_, he thought. _A LITTLE?!_ No, he was going to destroy the place. And he was going to take his woman with him, too. And if it wasn't Echo?

Well, the picture that Dominic had sent him of this new Juliet woman made her seem very appealing.

VERY APPEALING INDEED.

The doors to the Buy More swished open, and two men – a tall, fleshy white man, and a shorter Indian – walked out. "It's just not doable, Jeffrey!" the shorter one exclaimed.

"You're jusht not thinking outshide the boksh, Leshter," the taller one burbled drunkenly.

_Rodents_. _Scum_. Alpha couldn't abide simple humans. And so, yes, he would happily take down the Dollhouse. He would destroy each and every person there. And he would take Juliet away.

Far, far away.

* * *

**with Alan Tudyk as Alpha**


	10. Interlude

Howdy folks.

Okay, so as of today - August 11th, 2009 - it's been a little while since I wrote anything. Here's why.

Over the course of this summer, I took twelve credit hours online from Northern Arizona University. I pulled three A's and a B, which as you can probably imagine, took up a WHOLE LOT of time. During that time, I also spent a week out of town, as a camp counselor. Then, a week ago today, my classes finally ended.

Two days after my summer classes finally came to an end, the senior GM of the hotels I work for was fired, thus adding to my workload. Then, the day after that, my mom had a psychotic breakdown. Now, my mom's fine, and she's going back home today, but still, my life is sort of overloaded right now.

I feel bad about this, because I know where I want to take _Chuck vs. the Con_, and _Chuck vs. the Past_ Reboot, and _In the Valley of the Shadow_, and _Tales from the Sparrow School_. However, I just don't have the time or ability to do much writing right now.

Thanks everybody for reading, and for your support.

The Notorious JMG


	11. Black Gives Way to Blue

_**In the Valley of the Shadow, **_**Chapter 9 – "Black Gives Way to Blue"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Major John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Echo/"Sarah Walker" – Eliza Dushku  
Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett  
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau  
Dr. Jill Roberts – Jordana Brewster  
Stephen Bartowski – Scott Bakula  
Ted Roark – Chevy Chase  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Boyd Langdon – Harry Lennix

* * *

_Author's note: a little less than two months ago, I posted a note here about why it had been so long since I had written anything, that being that my mom had gone into the hospital after a mental breakdown. Well, she's improved and gotten worse simultaneously – her mental health is fine, but her doctors have discovered a lesion within her brain, which they believed was partially responsible for her breakdown._

_That having been said, though my family is going through a difficult time right now, I have had a great many other burdens lifted from my shoulders recently, not the least of which was my old Volvo. I finally scraped together enough savings to put down a reasonable down payment, and now, instead of driving around in a car that is 16 years old and has 185,000 miles on it, I'm driving around in a car that is 1 year old and has less than 20,000 miles on it._

_And so, I decided that maybe it was time to try getting back into writing. I figured, what better day to put forth an update on my longest-un-updated story than Zachary Levi's birthday?_

_So here it is… the next chapter of _In the Valley of the Shadow. _Enjoy!_

* * *

**9:15 AM  
Sunday, April 12****th****, 2009  
The Orange Orange, Burbank**

The distinctive sound of the secure door opening caught John Casey's attention, and he looked upward to see the nerd come through, shoulders slumped. _Crap_, Casey thought. Something had gone wrong –

_Shit._ That woman walking through the door behind Chuck was most definitely not Sarah Walker – although, wait a second. There was something there, something about the way she carried herself –

"Hello, John," she said in a voice that most definitely did not belong to Sarah Walker, but with a tone that couldn't have come from anybody else.

Casey raised an eyebrow, and turned to face Paul Ballard. "This," he started, pointing a finger up at the Active currently known as Sarah Walker, "is fuckin' eerie."

"That's how it works," Ballard replied distractedly, his eyes locked on Echo. "Oh my God…"

Echo stopped descending the stairs for a moment, and turned to look at Chuck. "Chuck, why is the creepy looking individual with the FBI shield staring at me like I'm his long lost girlfriend?"

A snort of laughter came forth from Carrie Rozelle. "Pull it together, Ballard," Casey grumbled. "You can worry about the ramifications of finding your kidnapping victim later."

Echo raised an eyebrow. "Kidnapping victim?"

"Uh, yeah," Ballard finally said. "You are… um, your body, it used to belong to a young woman named Caroline. She's been an open file for me for over a year."

Echo grimaced. "Lovely," she said. "Tell you what, Agent Ballard –"

"Paul," he interrupted.

"Paul," she echoed, narrowing her eyes. "All right. I'll tell you what, Paul, when this mission is over, and my brain is back in my body, you can be the hero and rescue Caroline… whatever that means."

* * *

**Black Rock Fulcrum Base  
Barstow, CA**

Jill Roberts pressed down on the bouncy pony once, twice, three times – and heard the distinctive click as the hatch released. Pulling upward on the ancient playground toy, she opened the entrance to the secret Fulcrum base beneath the abandoned drive-in theatre and began to climb down the ladder.

The base itself was eerily deserted, although Jill could hear voices nearby as she descended the ladder. The hatch above hissed shut, blocking out the sunlight completely and casting Jill into the faint light rising from the bunker below.

When Jill reached the floor at the bottom of the ladder, she turned to follow the voices, looking through windows in doors as she went. As she passed one door, she looked in, saw a man – and did a double-take.

_Oh my God_, she thought, color draining from her face. _I just found Chuck's dad_.

And sure enough, there was Stephen Bartowski, sitting on the other side of the door, working on what Jill assumed was the new Intersect. As she stood there, watching him work, he paused, his head coming up. He turned toward the window.

Jill froze, unable to move, but desperate to get away before he could see her. However, her body overruled her mind, and she was still standing at the door, staring through the window, when Stephen Bartowski turned to look her straight in the eyes.

If he was startled to see somebody standing there, he didn't show it. Rather, he cocked his head to one side, a smile beginning to form on his lips. _I know you_, he mouthed, pointing a finger at Jill.

Her eyes widened. _Me?_ she replied, pointing to herself.

_Yeah_, Steve Bartowski answered. _You. You're Jill Roberts. Chuck's ex-girlfriend_.

Jill stared back at him, unsure of what to – well, not say, so much as communicate. _You know,_ Steve continued, _he always thought very highly of you, even after you turned into a back-stabbing –_

No way. There was absolutely no way Jill could handle Chuck's dad calling her what she already knew she was. Forcing her feet to move, she strode away from the door, breaking off eye contact before yet another Bartowski could apply the label _bitch_.

Tears began to build in Jill's eyes as she marched resolutely toward the voice now identifiable as that of Ted Roark.

* * *

**The Orange Orange**

"Agent Walker, I'm Carrie Rozelle, US Secret Service," Carrie introduced herself as Echo sat down in front of a computer monitor. "Before we do anything else, we need to take care of some… uh… business."

Echo narrowed her eyes and looked up at Carrie. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"We have to eliminate any extra Dollhouse encoding," Agent Ballard explained. "They have definitely subliminally programmed you to respond to your handler saying the phrases, 'Do you trust me' and 'Would you like a treatment,' and they've likely also set up a mental trigger to turn you into a killing machine."

Echo's mouth hung open slightly for a moment. "Lovely," she finally uttered, turning to Chuck. "Chuck? How exactly are we going to 'take care' of this?"

"Actually, it's very similar to the Intersect," Chuck replied. "Granted, it's very crude, but we think it should be effective. We've set up a PowerPoint to display at a rate of thirty slides per second, using subliminal imagery and text that was designed to break hypnotic suggestion, but should work for these triggers as well."

"You can thank the NSA, Walker," Casey interjected. "We came up with it years ago, right at the start of Intersect development."

"In which case, we can thank Chuck's father," Echo replied. "He was the one who started this whole thing."

"Yeah," Casey shot back. "Remind me to thank him with a kick in the ass when we find him, right?"

Chuck shot Casey an annoyed look, and then turned back to Echo. "Alright, are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready whenever you are," she replied.

Chuck nodded. "Everybody look away," he said. "Sarah, whenever you're ready, just reach out and hit the spacebar. Make sure that YOU keep your eyes on the monitor."

And with that, Chuck turned his head away from the computer.

* * *

**Black Rock Fulcrum Base**

Jill stood in the hallway, just feet away from where she heard Ted Roark speaking. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to move again, turning the corner to face him.

She didn't recognize the man that Roark was speaking to, but it was clear that Roark immediately recognized her. "Well, well, Dr. Jill Roberts," he said with a smile. "Very long time, no see. Where exactly have you been?"

"Jail," she replied shortly. "Pelican Bay, specifically."

Roark raised an eyebrow. "Oh, my," he said. "Did you have an enjoyable stay?"

"If you consider solitary for six months with peanut butter becoming a primary food group 'enjoyable', then SURE," Jill shot back, laying the sarcasm on thick. "You know, I always thought that Fulcrum would come along and get me out one day. But, no."

"It's funny you should mention that," Roark replied. "We were actually just going to send somebody for you."

Jill laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. You were actually going to get me out of there?"

"Uh, not quite," Roark said with a smile. "We were going to have you killed."

"Wha –" Jill's eyes went wide, and she backed away from Roark. "Why?"

The unidentified man turned to look at Jill. "Are you familiar with Charles Bartowski, Dr. Roberts?"

The color drained from Jill's face. _Oh, shit_.

"Meet Laurence Dominic, Dr. Roberts," Ted Roark said. "He's the head of security at the Dollhouse in Westwood. That very Dollhouse was infiltrated by Major John Casey of the National Security Agency yesterday afternoon. Major Casey's assigned to a detail protecting Charles Bartowski, and it's my understanding that the two of you used to be fuck-buddies."

Despite the cold hand of terror that had suddenly gripped Jill's stomach, Roark's coarse language still got through. "Are you kidding me?" she asked incredulously, staring at Roark. "We were MUCH more than that."

"Ah, yes, of course," Roark replied, rolling his eyes. "Young love. Forgive my rudeness. You were boyfriend and girlfriend… and you fucked like bunnies, yes?"

Jill sighed and shook her head. "You are a bastard."

"A total bastard, actually," Roark said, "or at least, that's what you're going to think after we're done with you."

Jill looked at him, a sense of defeat beginning to set in. "I thought you were going to kill me."

"Oh, no, you're far too valuable NOW," Roark shot back. "We were going to have you killed while you were still in jail because you were a liability. Now that you're out, though…"

A feral grin crossed Roark's face. "Prepare to become Chuck-bait."

* * *

**Empire Plaza, Burbank**

"She's comin' out," Boyd Langdon said, watching Echo come out of the Orange Orange. "Something's not right – she looks upset."

"Understandable," the tech sitting next to him replied. "Her heart rate spiked about five minutes ago."

Boyd turned to the tech, disbelief etched on his face. "And you didn't tell me about this why?"

The tech shrugged. "It didn't seem important."

"Everything's important," Boyd sighed, as Echo reached the van. She pulled the door open.

"Get out," she ordered Boyd.

Boyd stared at Echo. "What?"

A stony look descended on Echo's face. "I said, get OUT," she repeated, her hand coming up, a gun aimed at Boyd's head.

"Uh…" This was not good. "W-would you like a treatment?" Boyd stammered.

"No, I would most certainly not like a treatment," Echo shot back. "And to save you the trouble of asking, I definitely don't trust you. Not with my life, not with anything."

And with that, Boyd Langdon's world came to a screeching halt. Somehow, this Jayne Cobb and this Malcolm Reynolds who had hired Echo had managed to deprogram her subliminal programming. Boyd had one last ditch option to use, and hopefully it would work –

"The Red Line train NEVER goes to Wilshire and Western," he said.

Echo stared at him for a moment – had it worked?

Then she laughed. "Nice try, asshole," she replied. "Get OUT OF THE VAN."

Boyd's heart sank. Echo was fully Sarah Walker.

Resigned, he stood up and got out of the van, the tech behind him. As he exited, Cobb and Reynolds and two others emerged from behind the van –

_Wait a second. Cobb and Reynolds?_

"Firefly," he muttered under his breath.

The one who called himself Reynolds smiled. "I can't believe nobody figured it out before now," he said. "Charles Carmichael, US Marshal. The skinny one is Paul Ballard, FBI, the pretty one is Carrie Rozelle, US Secret Service, and the ugly one is John Casey, NSA."

"Ugly?" John Casey growled, just as Echo turned to look at Carmichael.

"So Carrie's the pretty one, huh, Chuck?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well… she is pretty," Carmichael offered, seeming to deflate before Boyd's eyes.

Echo sighed and turned back to Boyd. "Here's the deal, pal," she said. "You're going to load all of us into the van, and take us back to the Dollhouse. When we get there, we're going to take me out of THIS body, put me back in MY body, and then we'll be gone. _Capisce_?"

That was the most ridiculous thing Boyd had heard since starting work at the Dollhouse – and he'd heard many ridiculous things. "And if I don't?" he asked with a snort of laughter.

_Oops_, he thought, realizing immediately his mistake as Echo's eyes narrowed. Her gun hand dropped, and he heard the gun discharge – nanoseconds before his right foot caught fire.

"GAH SONOFABITCH!" Boyd gasped, dropping to the pavement and cradling his right foot.

"You're going to do exactly as I said," Echo growled, squatting down next to him. "Otherwise, the next shot goes through your spinal cord. Understood?"

Boyd looked back at Echo, the last four months worth of work completely gone. "Understood."


	12. Tabula Not So Rasa

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 10 – "Tabula Not So Rasa"**

**_Author's note: I apologize in advance - there's a LOT of intertwined story lines in this chapter. Hopefully you'll be able to follow without any problems._**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Topher Brink – Fran Kranz  
Juliet/Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Alpha – Alan Tudyk  
Boyd Langdon – Harry Lennix  
Echo/Sarah Walker – Eliza Dushku  
Dr. Claire Saunders – Amy Acker  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Jill Roberts – Jordana Brewster  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau

* * *

**11:00 AM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Sunday, April 12****th****, 2009  
The Westwood Rossum Tower  
Los Angeles, California**

Topher Brink watched in amazement. The blonde beauty before him clearly knew everything there possibly was to know about security and intelligence.

_She's like a machine_, he thought to himself, looking out of the corner of his eye at the computer monitoring her vitals. Everything was normal. In fact, everything was BETTER than normal. If Topher hadn't known better, he'd think that Juliet was asleep.

Reaching over and maneuvering the optical mouse, he temporarily minimized Juliet's vitals and brought up iTunes. _Shuffle away, my Appley friend_.

The program kicked it over to "Wake Up" by the Arcade Fire. Topher approved - he'd always thought of _Funeral_, their first album, as forty-two minutes and fifteen seconds of auditory aphrodisiac. He hummed softly along as the song played.

_Back to your vitals, Ms. Juliet_, Topher thought, bringing the program back up - only to see that her heart rate and respiration had both increased. It wasn't an increase that could be detected by an observer, but according to the computer, it was a significant enough increase over her previous state of relaxation that Topher was bordering on alarmed.

"Uh, excuse me, Juliet?" he said quietly. Juliet turned around to face him – and sure enough, there was a perturbed look on her face. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she said softly, an unsure note to her voice. "Nothing's wrong – but – what's the name of this song?"

Topher raised an eyebrow. "It's called 'Wake Up'," he replied. "By a band called the Arcade Fire." He paused. "Why, do you know it?"

Juliet shook her head slightly. "I don't… but I feel like I do."

_Okay, that's not good_. "Would you, uh, like a treatment?"

Juliet shook her head again, more determined this time. "No, this is more important. I can wait on a treatment till later." Then she looked directly at Topher. "Also, you shouldn't call me Juliet."

_Oh shit._ "Why not?"

She shrugged. "That's what I get called all the time, but right now, I'm not me. I'm definitely somebody else."

_False alarm_. "Okay, that's fine," Topher said, breathing a sigh of relief. "What would you like me to call you?"

Juliet thought about it for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "You can call me the Operative."

And with that, she turned back to the computers before her and resumed her work.

* * *

Adelle DeWitt looked with confusion at the sight of Topher Brink crossing the floor of her office. "Topher…"

"I know, I know, I'm supposed to be watching Juliet. But there's something I needed to talk to you about. Juliet, I don't know if she got wiped right – there's stuff –"

"Topher."

The young scientist shut his mouth. "Who's watching Juliet?"

"Oh," Topher said, "Dr. Saunders. She'll be fine."

"Proceed."

Topher sighed. "She recognized a song I was listening to. She doesn't know it, but said she feels like she should. Then, she asked me not to call her Juliet, and said that I should call her the Operative instead." He paused and smiled half-heartedly. "Quite honestly, I didn't program her to be a Joss Whedon fan."

Adelle frowned. "So, what are you saying, Topher?"

"I'm saying, she's got vestiges of the real Sarah Walker popping up. These could be indicators of a serious problem –"

"Or they could be completely normal," Adelle interrupted him. "You imprinted her to essentially BE Sarah Walker, just without knowledge of her own identity. If she was imprinted with all her skills, doesn't it seem logical that somewhere in there, two or three little tiny bits of information about her true self might have gotten through?"

"Well…"

"And do you truthfully think that knowledge of a song and a character from a movie is going to cause a composite event?" Adelle asked. "This isn't Alpha we're dealing with here, Topher."

Topher opened his mouth to speak – and then, his eyes went wide, and he pitched forward onto the carpet, a tranquilizer dart sticking out of the back of his neck. Adelle looked down at him, and then looked up, horror crossing her face.

Alpha looked at Adelle from his position behind where Topher had been standing, smug malice drawn on his face. "You would like to think that, wouldn't you."

* * *

The Operative stared intently at one monitor. Something was off. Something about the way Boyd Langdon was moving – it was as if he had been injured. And Echo – something was wrong with her, too. What was that in her hand?

Grabbing the mouse, she boxed Echo and clicked on the "Zoom and Enhance" button. The picture zoomed in, and clarified her look at Echo's hand –

Jesus Christ. That was a .38 revolver in Echo's hand, dug into Boyd's back. "Oh, fuck," she whispered.

Whirling in her chair, she turned to face Dr. Saunders. "Dr. Saunders, I have to go down to the parking garage," she announced. "We have a major security breach."

Dr. Saunders frowned. "Juliet, I don't know if I can allow you to do that."

_Call me THE OPERATIVE_, she snarled mentally. "Look," she said, leaning forward, "there is an Active in the garage who I believe has gone off the reservation. She has a gun to her handler's back, and I think she might have injured him somehow. I'm trained to handle this. I'm going."

As she rose from her chair, Dr. Saunders stood as well. "I'm going with you then."

"No," she replied. "You need to stay here. Call Ms. DeWitt and Mr. Dominic. They need to know about this right now."

And with that, she turned and jogged out of the room. "Crap," Dr. Saunders muttered, reaching for the phone.

Nobody noticed the four additional people who climbed out of Echo's van.

* * *

The phone on Adelle's desk rang. She didn't move, her eyes fixed on the former Active, who advanced toward her, a tranquilizer gun trained on her forehead.

"Answer it," Alpha instructed her. "And if you say one thing to give away the fact that I'm here, I'll put a dart in your eye."

Without taking her eyes off of Alpha, Adelle reached out and picked up the phone. "DeWitt."

"_Ms. DeWitt, this is Dr. Saunders. Juliet has identified a security breach in the parking garage, and has gone to investigate._"

A security breach in the parking garage? _Just what the hell is going on here?_ Adelle thought to herself.

"Understood," she replied. "Is your situation normal otherwise?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "_Uh, yes._"

"Thank you, Dr. Saunders. Keep me posted."

* * *

_Situation normal_. Those two words rang in Dr. Saunders' mind.

That was the pre-arranged staff signal for being under duress. They had been trained, and trained, and trained again to never, ever say "situation normal" unless the situation absolutely was NOT normal.

"Shit," she breathed. Picking up the phone again, she dialed.

"_Dominic_."

"Mr. Dominic, this is Dr. Saunders. We have a situation at the house. Ms. DeWitt is in trouble."

* * *

**Westwood Plaza Shopping Center**

Laurence Dominic looked across the table in the food court at Jill Roberts. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said into his phone.

Hanging the phone up, he gave Jill a rather grim smile. "My man is in place," he informed her. "Time to go Chuck hunting."

* * *

**Rossum Tower**

Boyd Langdon was tied up and well hidden. The clothing warehouse for the Dollhouse was absolutely gigantic. "Alright, here's what's going to happen," John Casey began, ignoring the former LAPD officer restrained behind him. "Ballard, you're going to stay here and guard Langdon –"

"THE HELL!" the suspended FBI agent exploded. "You can't for one minute believe that I'm going to sit here, after all the work I've put in –"

"It's BECAUSE of all the work you've put in," Casey interrupted. "You're too emotionally invested. You're going to be TOO driven to win, and that might make you screw up."

"I'M emotionally invested?!" Ballard shot back. "What about Bartowski? How is HE not emotionally invested?"

"He IS," Casey replied testily, "but unlike YOU, he has a singular objective, and that is to retrieve the body of Sarah Walker. He is NOT here to take down the Dollhouse."

"Though I'll happily do it if given the chance," Chuck muttered.

"Bartowski…"

"I'll be quiet."

Casey grunted. "Now, if I may resume the briefing?" He looked around. "Alright. Ballard stays here with Langdon. Walker –" he looked over at Echo "- you and I will go find the big cheese."

"Adelle DeWitt," Ballard informed them. "Probably toward the top floors of the tower."

"Copy that," Casey replied. "Rozelle, you will take Bartowski and go try to find Agent Walker…" Casey paused. "While I'm running around with Agent Walker trying to find somebody else."

He shook his head. "I pray to God I never have a mission like this again."

* * *

"So, what exactly do you want, Alpha?" Adelle asked the former Active.

Alpha just smiled as he took a seat across from her. "I just want you to sit there and shut up, Adelle," he replied. "If the phone rings, you answer it, and tell whoever's on the other end that your situation is completely normal. Understood?"

_You have no idea_, Adelle thought. "You do realize that eventually security will realize something's wrong and show up," she said.

Alpha snorted. "Such a pity that I've been working with Mr. Dominic, then," he replied. "Security will be doing jack."

Adelle felt the blood drain from her face. This was not good.

* * *

The Operative jogged through the subterranean corridors, scanning her surroundings continuously as she went. Suddenly she froze.

_Voices_, she thought. Two of them – a male and a female. Up ahead, around the corner. Flattening herself against the wall, she crept the rest of the length of the corridor. Reaching behind her, she drew the gun that she had grabbed from the armory –

"FREEZE!" she roared, moving around the corner, the gun coming up to bear on the two people ahead of her.

The woman was shorter, but looked like she could easily kill somebody. She was dressed completely in black, with short brown hair, and a gun nearly the size of her forearm in her right hand.

The man, on the other hand, was tall and skinny, and looked like he would have a difficult time hurting a cockroach. A white, short-sleeved shirt and a black necktie made him look like a nerd, and the unruly mop of curly brown hair on top of his head completed the image.

But wait – there was – what was it –

"DON'T SHOOT!" he shouted, a note of desperation in his voice.

She couldn't have shot anybody if she wanted to. She had frozen. Her mind was running in a million different directions.

Slowly, her gun hand came down. "I know you," she whispered, her eyes glued on the man in front of her.

* * *

Chuck Bartowski's breath hitched when she said, "I know you." She clearly wasn't Sarah Walker – "Sarah Walker" was off prowling the building with John Casey – but there was something there.

"Yeah," he whispered. "You know me, and I know you. We've known each other for a couple years."

She nodded, clearly confused. "I know," she replied. "I know, but I don't know how."

Carrie looked from Chuck to… what was she supposed to call her? "Chuck, what's going on?"

A gasp came from the un-nameable woman when she said the name Chuck. "Chuck," she whispered. "You're Chuck!"

Chuck turned to Carrie. "I'm not quite sure," he replied. "Either she's only been partially wiped, or she's been partially re-imprinted. Either way, there's something going on there that nobody expected –"

He froze. Sarah – _not quite_, he reminded himself – had said something, and he almost couldn't believe his ears. Slowly, he turned back to her. "What did you just say?"

"You're Chuck," she repeated. "I know you, but I don't know how." That's when the confusion disappeared from her face. "But there's one thing I know for sure, that everything tells me is right."

She crossed the space between her and Chuck, and stopped right in front of him, looking up into his eyes. "I know that I love you."

_To be continued…_


	13. All Hell Breaks Loose

_**In the Valley of the Shadow, **_**Chapter 11 – "All Hell Breaks Loose"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Boyd Langdon – Harry Lennix  
Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Juliet/Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau  
Don McKay – Brian Austin Green  
Echo/Sarah Walker – Eliza Dushku  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Alpha – Alan Tudyk  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Topher Brink – Fran Kranz  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Jill Roberts – Jordana Brewster

* * *

**12:00 Noon, Pacific Daylight Time  
Sunday, April 12****th****, 2009  
The Westwood Rossum Tower  
Los Angeles, California**

Boyd Langdon had been working on the rope binding his hands to the fire access pipe for the last fifteen minutes, and he could feel it starting to give. Just a little bit more, and then if he could get the drop on this erstwhile FBI agent…

This was not going to be simple. Ballard appeared to be a man on a mission, and those were always dangerous. On top of that, he was armed, whereas Boyd not only was not armed, but had a gunshot wound in his right foot.

Nonetheless, Ballard was not paying attention to Boyd, which was a huge tactical error on his part. If Boyd's twenty years as an LAPD detective had taught him one thing, it was to never take your attention off somebody who you were holding.

Aaaand… there. The threads of the rope began to snap, and thank God, too, because Boyd was starting to get the beginning of a nasty rope burn on his wrists.

As the last of the threads separated, Boyd paused for a moment, keeping his hands positioned so that it looked like he was still tied up. The best way to get the advantage over Ballard would be to temporarily disable him. Boyd still had one good foot, so if he used that foot to push off and hit Ballard's back with his injured foot…

Boyd grimaced. This was going to hurt, but in this situation, it was probably his best chance to take Ballard down quickly.

Boyd waited a moment, until Ballard had his back turned fully. Then, gritting his teeth, he counted.

_Three… two… one…_ Boyd sprang into action. Pulling his hands out and away from the pipe, he lifted his right foot off the ground and used his left to push off. Bringing his right foot up to the level of Ballard's coccyx, he kicked him HARD directly in the tailbone.

A sensation not unlike fire rushed up Ballard's spine and through the nerves in his torso, causing him to cry out and collapse to the floor in agony. It was good that he was so thoroughly disabled, because so too was Boyd, as the pain from his injured foot shot through his right leg.

However, Boyd was the first to recover, with his pain being the result of an exacerbated injury rather than a direct shot to the central nervous system. Picking himself up, he limped over to Ballard, who was writhing on the floor in pain. Reaching down, he unsnapped Ballard's holster and removed his service weapon, pointing the gun at the FBI agent's head.

"I think it's time we go see my boss," Boyd growled.

* * *

"DON'T SHOOT!"

It was a good thing that Chuck Bartowski shouted that when he did, because as soon as the tall blonde had come around the corner, gun up, and shouted "FREEZE!", Carrie Rozelle was prepared to put a bullet directly between her eyes. However, if there was one thing that Carrie had learned over the prior few days, it was that Chuck generally had very good instincts in a tactical situation.

That he so often ignored those instincts when they should have told him to stay in the car was a matter for another day.

And as soon as he had shouted, the other woman froze in place. Her gun hand wavered, and then dropped. "I know you," she whispered, clear recognition crossing her face.

_Ah_, Carrie thought. _This must be Sarah Walker_.

She turned to Chuck, who was looking straight into Sarah Walker's eyes. "Yeah. You know me, and I know you. We've known each other for a couple years," he replied.

"I know… I know, but I don't know how."

Carrie looked from Chuck to the other woman… she didn't know if she should call her by her name, or what she should call her. "Chuck… what's going on?"

Despite having been fairly thoroughly briefed on the Dollhouse and its Actives, Agent Rozelle was still having a fairly difficult time wrapping her head around the concept. However, this was not the time to worry about that, as saying Chuck's name apparently triggered something in Sarah Walker's head. "Chuck," she whispered. "You're Chuck!"

Chuck Bartowski turned to Carrie with a huge smile on his face. "I'm not sure," he replied. "Either she's only been partially wiped, or she's been partially re-imprinted. Either way, there's something going on there that nobody expected…"

His voice trailed off. Carrie looked at him, expecting more, and then realized that he was slowly turning to look at Sarah Walker. "What did you just say?" he asked.

"You're Chuck," Sarah said again. "I know you, but I don't know how… but there's one thing that I know for sure, that everything tells me is right."

With a feeling of disbelief and, yes, a little bit of jealousy, Carrie watched as Sarah Walker closed the space between herself and Chuck Bartowski, and looked up into his eyes. "I know that I love you."

Despite having only known Chuck for less than a week, Carrie couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Chuck was a good guy, and guys like him didn't come along every day. However, she had known going into this that he was simply unavailable, so…

"We need to keep moving," Carrie announced, breaking the look between Chuck and Sarah. "We've got to find the people who run this place, and get your brain completely back in your head, Agent Walker."

Sarah turned to look at Carrie. "Agent Walker," she said slowly, as if mulling over the taste of the words. "I like the way that sounds."

"You should," Chuck said with a laugh. "It's your name."

* * *

Don McKay ran down the deserted corridor. Somebody had locked down the elevators, and there had been a general notice put out of a security breach – apparently by Dr. Saunders.

The fleeting thought wondering why it had been Dr. Saunders and not Laurence Dominic to put out the notice passed through McKay's mind, but there were too many other things to think of at the moment. What exactly was going on? Where was Juliet? What was the tactical situation.

He rounded a bend – and there he saw Echo, gun in hand, dressed in combat gear, in the company of…

McKay came to a halt. "JOHN CASEY!"

The tall NSA agent came to a jerking stop. He turned back toward McKay. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "Don McKay?!"

McKay aimed his gun at Casey and slowly advanced. "What the hell are you doing here, Major Casey?" he asked. "And why are you with an Active?"

"Don McKay, meet Sarah Walker, CIA," Casey replied, indicating Echo and ignoring the first part of the question. "Walker, this is Don McKay, US Army Ranger. We served together in Afghanistan."

"If by 'served' you mean I took men out into the field while you sat in the safety of the helicopter, then yeah," McKay replied bitterly. "How many men did we lose at Maiwand because your intelligence was fucked?"

Casey's eyes narrowed. "Fuck you, McKay!" he shot back. "How many times did my helicopter and I blow to shit entire nests of guerrillas that would've killed you and your men because you couldn't figure out that they were there?"

McKay snorted. "Give me a break, you lame ass flyboy. You were too busy making sure that you never got blood on your faggy Air Force uniform –"

"CAPTAIN MCKAY –"

"It's MAJOR McKay, douchebag!"

"BOYS!"

Echo's shout shut the two men up immediately. "Alright," she growled, clearly angered. "Would the two of you take 'em out and measure, so that we can get this over with and actually ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING HERE?!"

Casey sighed. "No need."

"You still haven't answered my question, Casey," McKay said. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"This isn't ACTUALLY Sarah Walker," Casey replied, indicating Echo.

"No shit," McKay shot back. "She's an Active, designated Echo. I'm assuming she's been imprinted with somebody named Sarah Walker?"

"That's right," Echo said. "I was drugged several days ago, my body taken from me. It's somewhere in this building. The goal here is to find my body, and reunite it with my brain."

"Should be easy enough," McKay said. "What do you look like in real life?"

"About five foot ten, one-thirty, blonde…" Echo sighed. "Big boobs…"

The light went on in McKay's head. "Oh my God," he muttered. "Juliet is Sarah Walker."

Echo looked at him curiously. "You know who we're talking about?"

McKay nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm her handler."

* * *

Adelle DeWitt stared at Alpha. He hadn't moved in nearly fifteen minutes, instead simply fixing her with a rather unnerving stare.

"What exactly do you hope to accomplish here, Alpha?" she finally asked.

He smiled slightly and cocked his head. "Now why would I tell you that, Adelle?" he replied. "That would spoil all the fun."

A groan from the floor caught both their attention. _Thank God_, Adelle thought, as Alpha's gaze finally turned away from her toward Topher.

Topher lay bound in the corner, having been shot with a tranquilizer dart more than half an hour before. "What the hell happened?" he moaned, his eyes coming open – and widening dramatically as he saw Alpha.

"Oh, fuck," Topher breathed. "Oh, God, we're all fucked."

Alpha shrugged and nodded his head. "Yeah, pretty much," he agreed. "But hey, look on the bright side! You'll at least be dead when I send this building a-tumblin' down."

Adelle's jaw dropped open slightly. "My God," she said. "You're going to destroy this building?"

Alpha grinned. "Nine eleven style," he replied. "It'll be a blast, as it were."

"You're sick," Adelle whispered. "Do you have any idea the damage that will do to the whole Westwood area?"

Alpha nodded, his grin getting a little bigger. "I never liked this part of L.A. anyway," he said.

And that's when the right-hand elevator went _DING_.

Alpha whirled around, standing and drawing a gun as he did so. No sooner had Paul Ballard cleared the doorway of the elevator when the gun fired. Ballard cried out, the bullet impacting him on the left-hand side of his chest. He fell against the wall, sliding to the floor. A blood stain smeared the wall as he slowly slid down.

Boyd Langdon dove back against the back wall of the elevator, crouching down as he did so. "COME OUT!" Alpha roared. "COME OUT AND LEAVE YOUR GUN IN THE ELEVATOR, OR I'LL BLOW DEWITT'S HEAD OFF!"

Well. That didn't leave Boyd much option. He set the gun on the floor of the elevator and stood. Raising his hands in the air, he limped out of the elevator to see a man he knew only through pictures aiming a gun at him. "Detective Langdon, is it?" Alpha asked. "How kind of you to join us. Please, won't you come sit?"

Boyd carefully limped across the room, hands still in the air, and took a seat on the couch in the middle of Adelle's office. "What are you doing here?" he asked Alpha.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Alpha replied, rolling his eyes. "I am so SICK of you people asking me that question! I'm here to kill people, and damage shit! Why the hell else would I be here?"

And that's when the left-hand elevator also went _DING_.

Alpha spun toward the elevator again – but this time did not fire, as Sarah Walker exited the elevator, followed by Chuck Bartowski and Carrie Rozelle. "Ah!" Alpha said with a grin. "My door prize is here! Excellent!"

Looking Sarah in the eyes, he said, "There are three flowers in a vase. The third one –"

"NO!" Adelle shouted. "DON'T!"

"- is yellow," Alpha completed.

Sarah's eyes went momentarily wide – and then she blinked and shook her head. "Did I fall asleep?" she asked, her voice suddenly dull.

"For a little while," Alpha replied, his grin growing wolfish.

"Shall I go now?"

Alpha shook his head. "No," he said. "Why don't you come here?"

As if she was in a trance, she walked toward Alpha. "What the hell?" Chuck asked. He looked at Alpha, his eyes dark with rage. "What did you do to her?!"

"He wiped her imprint," Adelle DeWitt said quietly. "She's just an Active now."

Chuck's jaw dropped. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" he roared, charging toward Alpha.

"Chuck, NO!" Carrie shouted, grabbing him from behind and tackling him –

Just as Alpha fired his gun again. The bullet struck Carrie in the back. She collapsed on top of Chuck – and was very still.

Chuck gasped. "Carrie?" he said, his voice full of horror. "CARRIE?!"

"Help the weakling out, Langdon," Alpha ordered. Boyd stood up from his chair and very gently lifted Carrie Rozelle off of Chuck Bartowski.

"She's still breathing," Boyd said quietly. Chuck nodded, but couldn't take his eyes away from the blood stain on his jeans. Then, slowly, he looked back up at Alpha.

"You SON OF A BITCH," he whispered, starting to stand.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Alpha warned, yanking Juliet to stand next to him and putting the gun to her head. "If you EVER want Sarah Walker's mind and body to be reunited, you better behave!"

Chuck shook his head. "The people I know – the things I know – there is nowhere you can go that I won't find you, that I won't find HER!"

And that's when the right-hand elevator dinged one more time.

"That's why I have insurance, Mr. Bartowski," Alpha replied, pointing behind Chuck.

_Oh, no_, Chuck thought, dread filling his heart as he turned around – to see another man holding a gun to Jill Roberts' head. "You bastards," Chuck breathed.

"Meet Laurence Dominic," Alpha said, "my partner in these affairs."

As Alpha crossed the office, Juliet in tow, Adelle DeWitt seethed behind him. "Laurence, you back-stabbing piece of shit," she growled. "I will end you –"

"Oh, shut up, Adelle," Laurence shot back. "I am so sick of your shit."

"Have your argument later, kids," Alpha interrupted. "Okay, so Chuck, here's the deal. Mr. Dominic is going to take Dr. Roberts and go in one direction. I'm going to take what's left of Agent Walker here and go another direction entirely. You have one hour. Whichever one you've found at the end of that time, you get to keep. The other one – she dies."

Alpha pulled Juliet's arm and guided her toward the elevator. "I hate to go," he said, "but it's time."

He stepped into the left-hand elevator with Juliet, as Dominic pulled Jill back into the right-hand elevator. "Toodle-oo, kids!" Alpha called sarcastically, as the doors to both elevators shut.

Chuck looked helplessly at the elevators, then down at Carrie, then over at Paul Ballard, who was beginning to regain consciousness. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour – but it was going in circles.

Finally, he exhaled. "Shit."

_To be continued…_


	14. Starlight Express

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 12: "Starlight Express"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Amtrak engineer Jackie McDougal – Tommy Flanagan  
Alpha – Alan Tudyk  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Echo/"Sarah Walker" – Eliza Dushku  
Jill Roberts – Jordana Brewster  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
Topher Brink – Fran Kranz  
Juliet/Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
Mike – Ryan Hurst  
Sierra – Dichen Lachman  
Victor – Enver Gjokaj  
November – Miracle Laurie  
Charlie – Olivia Munn

* * *

**Sunday, April 12****th****, 2009  
12:14 PM, Pacific Daylight Time  
Amtrak Coast Starlight Train #14  
Van Nuys, California**

As usual, the Coast Starlight train was running late. More than an hour and a half behind, in this case – in thirteen minutes, the train was supposed to be in Santa Barbara.

"Not a chance in hell THAT's gonna happen," Jackie McDougal muttered under his breath as he brought the train up to ten miles an hour. This was bound to piss off the folks on Van Nuys Blvd., but they'd have to live with it. If he went any faster than 25 miles per hour through the San Fernando Valley, Amtrak would have his head on a platter and his balls on a fork.

The train's speed came up to fifteen as he crossed Kester Avenue – and then, Jackie saw a VERY disturbing sight. "OH SHIT."

There was a Los Angeles County Metro Transit Authority articulating bus parked on Sepulveda Boulevard, right on the tracks, less than half a mile away. "Oh, fuck me!" Jackie whispered as he pulled the train's throttle all the way back and stood on the brakes. "Fuck!"

The problem was, even though the train was only going fifteen miles per hour, it was still thousands of tons of steel and passengers, and even an emergency stop would still generally take a train better than half a mile to bring it to a stop. As the Metro Rapid bus – _Must be the 751,_ Jackie thought distractedly – grew in the train's windshield, he closed his eyes and said a little prayer to the God he had stopped believing in twenty years before, after the IRA had blessed him with a "Glasgow smile".

Jackie gritted his teeth and waited for the imminent crash – but there was none. "What?" His eyes flew open, to see the bus no more than ten feet away from him – and the train's speedometer reading zero. "Oh, thank CHRIST," Jackie breathed – and then his eyes went wide again.

The unmistakable ratcheting sound of a shotgun filled the cabin, and he slowly turned to see the barrel of a shotgun pointed at his face. "This is not my day," he muttered.

"Nice piece of work," the blonde intruder said. "Not often you can see a man stop a train from hitting a bus, not that quick."

"Thanks, I think," Jackie replied. "There's no money on board. Nothing here you'd want."

The intruder sighed and shook his head. "Money, money, money. Why do people always think it's about money?"

Pointing the shotgun at the right hand panel of the windshield, he fired. "Sometimes it's just about blowing shit away!" he cackled as the glass panel disintegrated. "What's your name?"

"Jackie," he croaked out. "Jackie McDougal."

"A pleasure, Jackie," the man replied. "Name's Alpha. Now, do me a favor, put both your hands on the throttle?"

* * *

**12:14 PM  
The Rossum Westwood building**

Chuck Bartowski was at a loss. He kept trying to come up with a strategy where he could rescue both Sarah and Jill, but he was failing. Utterly.

The two people standing in front of him weren't helping any. Especially since they were both in agreement that he needed to go after Jill.

"Roberts is the logical choice, Bartowski," Casey told him. "She's a bio-geneticist, and we can't afford for her to fall into Fulcrum's hands full-time."

"Casey's right," Sar- _ECHO!_ – added. "Juliet is expendable. Jill isn't."

Chuck looked at Echo in disbelief. "Sarah, that's YOUR BODY!" he practically shouted. "How can you say it's expendable?"

Echo shrugged. "Clearly, it's not important what body I'm in, as it's pretty apparent I can still be me," she replied. "Also, I'm a CIA agent. I know going in what the risks are."

"But…" Chuck's face fell, defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders. "But, Sarah, what am I supposed to do if you die?"

Echo smiled and shook her head. "I'm not going to, Chuck. I'll be fine. That's why you need to go after Jill."

Chuck looked into Echo's eyes, and saw Sarah looking back at him. He looked over at Casey, and the older man nodded.

"Alright," Chuck said, in a voice barely above a whisper, as his gaze fell to the floor. "Let's go get Jill."

* * *

**12:14 PM  
Outside the Gas Company Building  
555 W. 5****th**** St., Los Angeles**

Jill had tried to be strong. She had TRIED, dammit. But she just couldn't do it any longer. In forty-five minutes, she was going to be dead. There was no way that Chuck was going to come after her. Not if Sarah's life was in danger, ESPECIALLY if Sarah's brain had been wiped and she couldn't protect herself.

And so, unbidden, she started to cry. She did her best to keep it quiet, but not quiet enough to keep her captor from hearing her.

"Oh, for the love of God," Laurence Dominic muttered. "What the hell are you crying about?"

Jill looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes and sniffed. "Because you're going to kill me," she whispered.

Dominic snorted. "I'm not ACTUALLY going to kill you, Roberts!" he replied, astonishment in his voice. "You're FAR too valuable to Fulcrum."

_What?!_

Jill stared at him. "Then what – what did Alpha mean when he said that whichever one Chuck didn't go to was going to be killed?"

Dominic shrugged. "It was a gambit," he replied. "We're just doing that to get Bartowski to break up his team, weaken himself. That way, whichever one he goes for, Fulcrum captures him there, and we kill the rest." He paused, lost in thought for a moment. "Here's the thing, though," he continued. "I don't trust Alpha to capture Bartowski and bring him in. I need you to get him to come after you."

"You've got to be kidding me," Jill uttered, a look of disbelief sweeping across her face. "Why would I voluntarily pull Chuck into your trap?"

The sound of the slide on a Ruger SR9 being pulled back filled the car. "Because if you don't," Dominic said calmly, as he raised the gun to Jill's face, "you WILL be playing a harp and wearing a halo." Then he paused to consider his words, and smiled evilly. "Or more likely, you'll be face down in the seventh level, getting cornholed by the devil."

But Jill didn't hear any of that last part. In fact, she had stopped listening after the word _halo_.

* * *

**12:18 PM  
Van Nuys**

The bus had been moved out of the way. Jackie McDougal's hands were now lashed to the throttle of the train. "Now, have you seen _Speed_?" Alpha asked him.

McDougal turned a gimlet eye on Alpha. "You mean, that Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock on a bus movie?"

"That's the one," Alpha replied with a smile.

"It was naff," McDougal replied with a grunt. "Utter crap."

Alpha winced. "Iconic American movie, sir," he shot back. "And you get to experience your own version today."

McDougal narrowed his eyes. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Look behind you," Alpha replied. McDougal craned his neck around –

"Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus."

"It's only a ten pound block of plastic explosive," Alpha said, "but that'll be more than enough to kill you, take out the locomotive, and send the train plowing off into whatever part of suburban hell happens to be unlucky enough to have us passing through at the moment." He paused, and smiled. "Just don't go below forty miles an hour, and we'll be fine."

McDougal's eyes widened. "Forty miles an hour?!" he gasped. "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"Only on my better days," Alpha answered. "And today's one of my better days."

"Forty miles an hour through the Valley is insanity!" McDougal insisted. "Do you have any idea how badly this could turn out?!"

Alpha started laughing. It started out as a quiet laugh, but before long, he was up to a full roar that originated in his belly.

"Oh, good God, yes," he finally said, when he had recovered sufficiently to speak. "That's the plan."

* * *

**12:25 PM  
Rossum Building**

Chuck was still staring despondently at the floor, having not moved since he had made the decision to retrieve Jill, when the phone rang. "Hello?" he heard Adelle say quietly in the background.

"Chuck."

He turned around, to face Adelle. She held the phone out to him. "It's Dominic, for you."

Chuck crossed the room, and Adelle hit the speakerphone button. "Hello?"

"_So, Bartowski, made your decision yet?_"

Chuck sighed. "Perhaps," he replied, trying to not overplay his hand.

Dominic laughed at the other end. "_No perhaps about it,_" he replied. "_And here's why._"

Chuck heard noise in the background, as if the phone was being handed off, and then he heard Jill's voice. "_Chuck?_"

"Jill… I'm so sorry…"

"_Chuck, please… you have to come and get me._" The fear in her voice was almost palpable, and Chuck bowed his head. "_I'm so scared… don't leave me here._"

And with those words, Chuck's head snapped up, and his eyes went wide. "Okay, Jill," he replied, keeping his voice level, even as a smile started to spread across his face. "I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? Where are you?"

"_Nice try, Bartowski_," Dominic's mocking voice came from the other end. "_Have DeWitt trace the call. She should be able to find the cell phone… eventually_."

With a click, the call was cut off. "YES!" Chuck roared, punching the air. "Let's go get Sarah!"

Casey and Echo both looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Uh… Bartowski… what?!" Casey asked.

"Jill's fine!" Chuck replied. "Dominic's not gonna kill her – he's probably just using her to get to me!"

Echo shook her head. "Wait a second," she said. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Jill used one of my codes, Sarah!" Chuck answered excitedly. "Back when we were both at Stanford, we used to play _Halo_ in these big LAN parties –"

"Oh, Lord, nerd-speak," Casey grumbled.

"- and we had these secret codes that we could use on open frequencies to communicate with each other without letting the enemy know anything."

Echo raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"One of those was 'I'm so scared, don't leave me here'," Chuck said. "That meant, 'I'm fine, go do what you have to do, I'll take care of myself.' Jill's fine!"

"Okay," Echo replied. "Assuming you're right –"

"I AM right," Chuck shot back defensively. "Jill wouldn't use one of our codes unless she wanted me to understand it that way."

"Alright," Echo said, raising her hands in acceptance. "So you're right. That still doesn't explain how we find… uh, me."

"Dollhouse architecture!" Topher said, speaking up for the first time, without looking up from tending to Carrie Rozelle's wounds. "Track the GPS we've installed."

"Surely Alpha will have disabled that," Adelle dissented. "The first thing he did upon leaving here was disable his own."

Topher frowned. "True," he replied. "We can try to track through her bio-signature…"

Chuck's phone rang, interrupting Topher's train of thought. Pulling the phone off of his belt, Chuck looked at the display. _Morgan Grimes_, it said. Sighing, Chuck answered the phone. "Now really isn't a good time, Morg-"

"_DUDE! ARE YOU NEAR A TV?!_"

"Uh… no…"

"_Dude! There's an Amtrak train rampaging through the Valley at like ninety miles an hour! It's already taken out half a dozen cars, and the LAPD's afraid it's gonna derail when it hits the curve at Canoga Avenue!_"

Chuck nearly dropped his phone. "Uh… Morgan, lemme call you back."

Without waiting from an answer from his bearded friend, Chuck cut off the call. "I think I know where Alpha is!" he said, a note of disbelief in his voice. "There's an Amtrak train being driven through the Valley at high speed."

Casey nodded. "Makes sense," he said. "Trains can go at pretty good speeds, they're almost impossible to stop using conventional means, and as long as he's in the Valley, we can't do something like bomb the train without pretty serious collateral damage in suburbia."

"Not to mention the several hundred passengers on the train," Adelle said dryly.

"The only question is, how do we raise an assault on the train?" Echo asked.

Topher Brink laughed, and stood up. "That's easy."

* * *

**12:35 PM  
Coast Starlight Train #14  
Chatsworth, CA**

Alpha breathed a sigh of relief and let go of his white-knuckle grip on the armrest as the train pulled through the Canoga Avenue curve. It had been slightly frightening, even for him, but it had made it.

The real problem was about five minutes away, but Alpha planned to be off the train by then.

"Where are we going?" Juliet asked, for about the fifteenth time since they had boarded the train.

Alpha gritted his teeth. "Hell, most likely," he growled across the dining car.

Juliet cocked her head. "Then I'm glad you let all the people off," she said. "They don't deserve to go to hell."

"They are irrelevant," Alpha replied, rolling his eyes. "I don't need them to lure Bartowski. I just need you."

"Bartowski," Juliet echoed. "Chuck Bartowski. I know him. I love him."

Alpha sighed and shook his head. "Shut up, bitch. Nobody asked you."

That was when Alpha heard it – the faint beat of rotor blades. He grinned. "Ride's here."

* * *

The Blackhawk helicopter touched down on top of the dining car. "THIS IS THE ONLY CAR WITH HEAT SIGNATURES IN IT!" Mike shouted over the rotor wash.

Echo put her hand on Mike's shoulder. "THANKS, MIKE!" she shouted back. "GET OUT OF HERE! WE'LL SIGNAL YOU WHEN WE NEED YOU!"

Mike turned to her, a concerned look on his face. "YOU'VE ONLY GOT ABOUT FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THIS TRACK HITS A HAIRPIN CURVE! THERE'S NO WAY A TRAIN CAN TAKE THAT CURVE AT THIS SPEED!"

Echo looked at him. "WE'LL BE FINE."

With that, she turned and exited the helicopter, followed by John Casey, Chuck Bartowski, Sierra, Victor, November, and Charlie. The four actives had all been imprinted as commandos, with every possible bit of counter-insurgency knowledge Topher could pack into their heads. Mike, their imprinted super-pilot, pulled the Blackhawk up and away from the train.

"ALRIGHT!" Echo shouted to the group crouched on the roof of the train. "HERE'S THE PLAN! CASEY, YOU AND CHARLIE GO FORWARD TO THE LOCOMOTIVE. SIERRA, YOU AND VICTOR GO BACK, MAKE SURE THAT THERE'S NOBODY STILL ONBOARD. NOVEMBER, YOU'LL STAY HERE WITH ME AND CHUCK. WE'LL ENTER THROUGH THE DINING CAR."

With a nod, John Casey took off, staying low, running the length of the train, Charlie right behind him. When he reached the locomotive, he gingerly lowered himself down to the deck, and pulled the door open.

"Sweet Jesus and thank the Lord!" a Scottish-accented voice greeted him. "You've gotta get me the hell out of here!"

Casey looked inside at the man tied to the throttle. "What's going on here?"

"Crazy bastard, calls himself Alpha, lashed me to this thing, told me if I go below forty miles per hour, the bomb goes off!"

Casey looked to his right. "Crap," he uttered, looking at the block of explosive. "Charlie, can you take care of that?"

The active looked at the bomb. "No way," she said. "He's got it wired like a Vegas casino. It would take me fifteen minutes just to figure out where to start."

"We sure as hell don't have that long!" the engineer interrupted. "In four minutes, this train is going off the track, for damn sure!"

Charlie turned around and looked at Casey. "What do we do?" she asked, concern written on her face.

"We untie him and get the hell off this train," Casey replied. "The rest will have to fend for themselves."

* * *

Echo and November had crept to the sides of the dining car. Lashing themselves to anchors on the roof, they were going to smash out the side windows and swing in. As they prepared to do so, Chuck saw one, then two, then three figures tuck and roll off the locomotive up front.

"Damn," he muttered as he saw the now-quickly receding figure of John Casey stand up and dust himself off. "That probably hurt."

"Here we go, Chuck!" Echo shouted. Looking over at November, she silently counted, _One, two, three…_

The two women reached down with axes and smashed out the windows directly below them, then rolled themselves off the sides of the train, and through the windows. As Chuck heard alarmed shouting come from below, he began to gingerly pull himself down and through – and then, rocketed himself quickly into the car with a yelp as a bullet whizzed past his ear.

Looking up, Chuck saw Alpha engaged in a fistfight with both Echo and November. "Chuck, take cover!" Echo shouted.

But Chuck saw Juliet, sitting on the other end of the car. Staying down and as far away from Alpha as he could, Chuck took off running – only to be tripped up by Alpha as he ran past.

"Hello, Mr. Bartowski!" Alpha exclaimed. "Oh, the Ring is going to be pleased when I bring –"

But he was cut off by a punch to the face from November. _What the hell is the Ring?_ Chuck thought to himself. With Alpha distracted, though, he had to concentrate on one thing – getting to Juliet. Picking himself up, he started moving again.

"Hi," he said breathlessly, plopping down on the floor next to Juliet.

"Hello," she replied. "You're Chuck."

"Yeah," Chuck replied. "Listen, do you trust me?"

She smiled. "With my life."

"Good," Chuck said. "Get up in that seat, buckle yourself in, and hold on."

* * *

And at 12:41 PM, Amtrak Coast Starlight Train #14 hit the curve in the 21500 block of Rinaldi Street, just south of the site of the 2008 MetroLink collision. Unable to negotiate the curve at forty miles per hour, the locomotive lost its grip on the tracks and derailed. Its speed immediately dropped precipitously.

At thirty-nine miles per hour, the sensor on the bomb recognized that the train had dropped below forty miles an hour. It exploded, jerking the locomotive to the right and ripping it away from the rest of the train. The locomotive fell to its side, skidding across the scrub plain to the north of the tracks, and finally plowing into a hillside.

The rest of the train began to derail, its momentum carrying it off the tracks behind the locomotive. All in all, four of the ten cars on the train followed the locomotive off the tracks, piling up in a jumbled heap of twisted metal just across the tracks from St. Paul's Christian Academy.

The fourth car on the train was the dining car.


	15. Wake Up

_**In the Valley of the Shadow**_**, Chapter 13: "Wake Up"**

_**Author's note:**__ This chapter is based around the lyrics from the Arcade Fire song "Wake Up", which if you remember from Chapters 4-5, was the song that allowed Chuck to find Sarah._

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Laurence Dominic – Reed Diamond  
Dr. Jill Roberts – Jordana Brewster  
Don McKay – Brian Austin Green  
Boyd Langdon – Harry Lennix  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Major John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Echo/"Sarah Walker" – Eliza Dushku  
Victor – Enver Gjokaj  
Sierra – Dichen Lachman  
November – Miracle Laurie  
Mike – Ryan Hurst  
Charlie – Olivia Munn  
Juliet/Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
Topher Brink – Fran Kranz  
Adelle DeWitt – Olivia Williams  
General Diane Beckman – Bonita Fredericy  
Ellie Bartowski – Sarah Lancaster  
Devon Woodcomb – Ryan McPartlin  
Morgan Grimes – Joshua Gomez  
Anna Wu – Julia Ling  
Carina Hansen – Mini Anden  
Carrie Rozelle – Summer Glau  
Paul Ballard – Tahmoh Penikett

* * *

**Sunday, April 12****th****, 2009  
12:45 PM, Pacific Daylight Time  
555 W. 5****th**** St., Los Angeles**

Laurence Dominic slouched in the front seat of the Fulcrum car, trying to ignore the whimpering young woman in the back seat. Why in heaven's name would Fulcrum have had him bring her in if not to execute her? She was a traitor, after all. Working with that limp-wristed Bartowski and his pathetic old father.

But NO. He had been told that she was worth far more as a hostage, that she would get Bartowski to come to them.

So where the hell was he?

Twenty minutes. That's how long it had been since Roberts had called Bartowski. Sure, it would normally take twice times that long to get from Westwood to downtown Los Angeles on a Sunday afternoon, but Rossum always had a helicopter ready to spool up on the roof. He should've been here by now, if Dominic had read him correctly.

_WHERE THE HELL WAS HE?!_

* * *

"I've got eyes on the target."

"Roger that, bio-signature matches."

* * *

"Where the hell is Bartowski, Dr. Roberts?"

Laurence turned around to glare at his hostage – and to his astonishment, she smiled at him. "Chuck's not coming," she said with a proud grin.

His eyes widened, and Laurence lifted his gun into Jill's view. "What the hell do you mean he's NOT COMING?!"

Jill's smile faltered slightly at the sight of the gun, but she nonetheless stared directly at Laurence Dominic. "He's not coming," she repeated. "I gave him a code phrase that told him that I'd be fine." At the shocked look on Dominic's face, she shook her head. "You don't get it, do you?" she asked. "I still love him. I'm not going to walk him directly into Fulcrum's hands!"

* * *

"Alright, I've got visual confirmation. It's Dominic!"

"GO GO GO GO GO!"

* * *

Without warning, an LAPD SWAT truck whipped around the corner, lights and siren on, and came screeching to a halt just in front of Dominic's car. The door flew open, and a SWAT team poured out – with Major Don McKay right behind them, his gun up and aimed directly at Dominic's head. "FREEZE!"

Laurence Dominic's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Motherfucker," he muttered as his door was wrenched open. A large hand wrapped itself around Dominic's left arm and dragged him out of the car. He looked up to see Boyd Langdon staring down at him.

"I've been wanting to do this for a LONG time," Langdon snarled with a nasty grin.

* * *

_Something filled up  
My heart with nothing  
Someone told me not to cry_

* * *

**Chatsworth**

"BARTOWSKI!"

The words filtered through to his brain as if they were coming through a very thick and dusty piece of cloth. He tried to respond, but felt like he was wrapped in that cloth.

"BARTOWSKI, OPEN YOUR GODDAMN EYES!"

Hmmm. Maybe he could try that. _Eyes, open!_ he thought, trying to force his eyes open – and it worked. Well, partially. Light was coming in, and there was a blurry figure crouching in front of him.

_That's Casey, isn't it?_ Chuck thought to himself. _He'll probably be pissed if I don't make a better effort_. So, with a grunt, Chuck forced his eyes the rest of the way open – and was shocked at the carnage.

He was still seated in the booth of the dining car – or, at any rate, what was left of the dining car from the Amtrak Coast Starlight train. It had been torn asunder, and there was what looked distinctly like blood spattered on the bulkhead that he could see. "Oh my God…" he whispered.

Then he remembered. Sarah. She had been sitting right next to him. Chuck turned his head…

"Where is she?" he asked, looking back at Casey. The older man just shook his head. Forcing his arms upward, Chuck reached up and grabbed Casey's collar. "Casey, where the hell is she?!"

Casey sighed. "She was thrown from her seat in the crash," he said quietly. "The final impact threw her out of the car. She's still alive, but she's in really bad shape. Charlie and Mike got her onto the helicopter and they're already headed back to Rossum."

Chuck's eyes widened. "No," he whispered. "No, she can't go back to Rossum! They'll just put her back in their system!" He tried to stand up, but fell back down immediately. "Casey, we HAVE to get her out of there!"

"Bartowski!" Casey snapped. "She has to go there. You have to understand – Walker's only gonna survive with a top-rate neurosurgery unit, and she won't survive the trip to the Barrow Institute in Phoenix. Rossum's the next best thing, and that's where she's going." He paused, and put a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "And don't worry. We're not going to leave her there."

* * *

Echo brushed a bloodied hand across her forehead, sweeping her hair out of her eyes. "Alright," she asked wearily. "November, Victor, Sierra, situation report?"

"Train was empty when it crashed," Victor replied. "We bailed just before the front cars derailed."

"Thank God for that," Echo sighed. "November, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," November said. "A little worse for the wear, but I'll be okay. However…" The Active looked at the ground with a grimace. "Alpha got away," she said. "I have no idea which way he went."

Echo sighed, and then turned to Sierra. "Anything else?"

Sierra nodded uncertainly. "Yeah," she said. "Uh, Juliet… you… were pretty badly hurt. Like, I'm not sure she was even still breathing when Charlie and Mike loaded her onto the helicopter."

Echo looked at Sierra – and the enormity of what the other woman had just said hit Echo's imprinted Sarah Walker personality like a ton of bricks.

_I might be dead?_

* * *

_But now that I'm older,  
My heart's colder,  
And I can see that it's a lie._

* * *

**8:00 PM  
Rossum Building, Westwood**

Chuck stood looking through the observation window into the operating theatre – the same place he had stood for nearly six hours. He just couldn't make himself leave.

Upon arrival back at the Dollhouse, Mike and Charlie had both been imprinted as world-class neurosurgeons, and they were now working on saving the brain of the woman Chuck knew as Sarah Walker, with Topher Brink overseeing their progress. Despite the prowess of the two imprints, Chuck couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. What if Sarah didn't make it?

Finally, it appeared that they were wrapping up. As the two Actives finished suturing Sarah's skull, Topher exited the operating theatre and turned Chuck's direction.

"She's not going to die tonight," he said tentatively as he approached Chuck. "But she's going to have difficulty."

Chuck frowned. "What kind of difficulty?"

Topher sighed. "There was brain damage, but I'm pretty sure I was able to bypass it," he replied. "The downside is, she'll have to have the Active architecture left in her brain for the rest of her life. That, and she's going to have to do a certain amount of physical therapy and speech therapy." Then his face brightened, and he grinned. "Nonetheless, she should make a full recovery, because I am just that good!"

In spite of himself, Chuck snorted with laughter and shook his head as the Dollhouse programmer turned and walked away. He turned back toward the operating theatre, where Mike and Charlie were getting ready to wheel Sarah out and take her to a recovery room.

"You really love her, don't you?"

Chuck turned to see that Don McKay had snuck up behind him. He smiled and nodded. "I do," he said. "I honestly don't know what I'd do without her."

McKay nodded. "I'll be sorry to see her go," he replied. "She's been a great asset to this house."

"And she will continue to be so," came the steely voice of Adelle DeWitt from behind Chuck. He whirled to see the head of the Dollhouse approaching, a resolve on her face that had not been there eight hours earlier. John Casey and Boyd Langdon flanked her, Casey looking like a scolded little boy.

Chuck frowned. "What exactly do you mean, 'She will continue to do so'?"

DeWitt shrugged. "Exactly what I say," she replied. "I plan to erase this whole event from history. Laurence Dominic goes to the Attic, Juliet stays here as an Active for the duration of her contract, Charlie, Echo, Mike, and Sierra all get wiped, November gets imprinted as Mellie and goes to comfort Agent Ballard as he recuperates, and all of you never say a word about these events lest you suffer the consequences."

A cold knot formed in Chuck's stomach and began spreading outward. "No," he said softly. "No, you can't do this to me! Not after everything I've gone through…" He shook his head. "You can't keep her – Casey, she can't keep her!"

Casey just shook his head. "There's nothing I can do about it, Bartowski," he muttered. "General Beckman isn't answering my calls, and nobody I know would even consider expending the political capital to take on Rossum."

Chuck looked from Casey to DeWitt to Boyd Langdon and back to Casey. This couldn't be happening. There was no way in hell – he had to figure out a plan –

_GUN_.

Boyd Langdon's holster was unsnapped. His gun was just sitting there for the taking. Before he even realized what his body was doing, Chuck was moving toward Langdon. His right hand darted out and grabbed the gun from Langdon's holster as his left hand grabbed Adelle DeWitt by the throat. Wrenching his arm around, Chuck slammed the older woman against the window of the operating theatre and pressed his left arm against her throat, as his right hand came up to press the gun against her temple.

Adelle DeWitt spoke quietly. "What do you think you're doing, Mr. Bartowski?"

"I'm taking Sarah and I'm leaving," Chuck growled.

"No, you very damn well aren't," Adelle shot back. "If you'd like, you're more than welcome to schedule a long-term engagement with Sarah Walker imprinted onto Juliet, but I don't think you have that kind of money."

Even as she spoke, Chuck's mind had gone cold. _Think like a spy,_ he thought. _Be like Bryce. Be like Cole. Be the hero, rescue the girl._

"Fine," Chuck replied, his voice emotionless. "Then I'll kill you, and then I'll take her and leave."

With those words, Adelle's face blanched somewhat, but she lost none of her resolve. "If that's what you have to do," she said. "But you should understand, if you kill me, my people will hunt you down and kill both you and Juliet. Is that what you want?"

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "Once Sarah's re-imprinted, she can protect me from anybody, even your people," he replied.

"Very well," Adelle said. "Then pull the trigger, Mr. Bartowski. Do what you have to do."

_She's not kidding_, Chuck realized as he looked into DeWitt's eyes. Unless he killed her, she would never let Sarah go. He was going to have to shoot her. He didn't have a choice. His finger began to tighten around the trigger –

"MR. BARTOWSKI."

The piercing voice of General Diane Beckman broke Chuck's concentration. Blinking, he looked at the gun he held in his hand – and then, realizing what he had been about to do, he went light-headed. Dropping the gun to the floor, he stumbled backward and fell over, landing hard on the floor.

Looking up, Chuck saw General Beckman standing next to Don McKay. "It would appear that I arrived just in time," she said, a note of displeasure in her voice. "Not in time to prevent my daughter from getting shot, of course, but in time to keep Mr. Bartowski from justifiably splattering your brains on the window, Adelle."

"Thank you, I suppose," DeWitt replied sarcastically, stepping away from the window and rubbing her throat. "Now would you kindly take your people and get out of my house?"

"Of course," General Beckman answered. "But Sarah Walker will be leaving this house, alive and intact."

DeWitt's eyes widened in disbelief. "Not even you have the power to take me on, Diane. What makes you think you can just take Juliet out of here?"

General Beckman cocked her head and smiled slightly. "Adelle, if you even think of challenging me, then I will make sure that you and every other Rossum executive ends up in MY Attic at Fort Meade." Her voice went ice cold. "Do I make myself VERY clear?"

And with that, DeWitt seemed to shrink before Chuck's eyes. "Crystal," she muttered.

* * *

_Children, wake up,  
Hold your mistake up,  
Before they turn the summer into dust._

* * *

**5:00 PM  
Sunday, June 14****th****, 2009  
Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, Beverly Hills, CA**

Sixty-eight days had passed since Sarah had disappeared. Sixty-three days since Chuck had nearly lost her to death. Fifty-eight days since she had regained consciousness. Fifty-five days since she had been re-imprinted as Sarah Walker and transferred to Cedars-Sinai for her recovery, under the supervision of Topher Brink.

And today, she was going home. Or, at any rate, to the home of top-tier neurosurgeon Devon Woodcomb, who would be keeping watch over her, under the impression that she had been a passenger on the train that had crashed in mid-April. And that wasn't entirely a lie, was it?

Ellie and Devon had postponed their wedding until Sarah was healthy enough to stand as a bridesmaid. Bryce Larkin had been temporarily assigned to Chuck's team while Sarah recuperated, which had not exactly made Chuck happy – although, it seemed that Casey had had a very brief and pointed chat with Bryce during which he had insinuated that very bad things might happen to Bryce should he do anything to disturb the team's chemistry.

But that didn't matter for the moment. All that mattered was that Chuck was waiting in the lobby of the Cedars-Sinai Neurovascular Center, waiting for Sarah to emerge from the elevator in a wheelchair.

And then, the elevator doors opened, and there she was. Her hair was still fairly short, having been shaved off before her brain surgery two months prior. Her left leg was in a cast, after having been in traction for six weeks, and there was still a slight slur to her speech.

As far as Chuck Bartowski was concerned, he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life, especially when her face lit up with a smile as she saw him.

"Hello, handsome," she greeted Chuck as he walked up to take her wheelchair from the doctor.

"Hello, beautiful," he responded as a grin that he was almost certain was threatening to become permanent grew on his face. "Are you ready to go home?"

She turned to look at Chuck as he wheeled her out the door. "By home, you mean your apartment?"

"I absolutely do," Chuck replied.

"Then yes, I am," she said. Turning back to face forward, she continued, "It's a nice place to call home."

The drive across Los Angeles was made mostly in silence, as the two didn't want to bother Casey with small talk, after he had made the effort to drive them through the center of town. Nonetheless, even the laconic NSA agent seemed genuinely happy to see Sarah intact once again.

Darkness was beginning to creep across the Los Angeles sky when Casey pulled into the Echo Park apartment complex. Chuck helped Sarah out of the car as Casey retrieved her as yet unused crutches from the trunk of the Crown Vic. Both men stayed by her side as she hobbled slowly across the courtyard to the apartment.

The interior of the apartment was dark as Chuck unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sarah turned to look at him, a puzzled look on her face. "I thought Ellie and Devon were going to be ho-"

Chuck flipped on the light switch to reveal Ellie, Devon, Morgan, Anna, Carrie Rozelle, and, of all people, Carina Hansen in the living room. "SURPRISE!"

Sarah's jaw dropped in shock, and then she turned back to Chuck, a look of delight on her face. "I could kill you," she whispered.

"I'm sure you could," he replied, laughter in his voice. "Welcome home… and happy birthday."

* * *

**Five hours later**

Sarah snuggled up next to Chuck in his bed. The cast on her leg had complicated things, but they had managed.

"Chuck... how'd you know it was my birthday?" she asked softly.

Chuck shrugged. "A little birdie told me," he replied.

Sarah pushed herself up on one elbow and looked down at Chuck, a grin on her face. "A birdie who you managed to spring from Fulcrum captivity completely without me?"

Chuck laughed. "What can I say. Dad thought I should know when my girlfriend's birthday was."

Sarah shook her head, as she laid back down, her short hair brushing against Chuck's back. "I loved it," she whispered.

"And I love you," Chuck replied.

There was silence for a moment, and then Sarah spoke. "I love you, too."

* * *

_With my lightning bolts a-glowin',  
I can see where I am goin'…  
With my lightning bolts a-glowin',  
I can see where I am… Go, go where I am!_

* * *

**Postlude  
Somewhere in Long Beach**

Paul Ballard still had moments of disorientation. From what he had been told, he had been shot while attempting to prevent Mellie's apartment from being burgled – but he didn't remember anything. In fact, he felt like he was missing a large chunk of memories, and being shot in the torso just didn't explain it at all.

Nonetheless, he was getting closer to the Dollhouse. He had found the man who apparently had designed the Dollhouse's ability to completely internalize all its environmental controls – an agoraphobe by the name of Stephen Kepler.

And now, Paul was at Kepler's apartment, knocking on the door. Kepler was going to help him get inside the Dollhouse.

The door cracked open, and the smell of weed drifted out. "Who is it?" a disembodied voice asked.

"Mr. Kepler, my name's Paul Ballard," Paul announced. "I need your help with something… it has to do with the Dollhouse."

Paul heard a security chain click off, and then the door swung open – to reveal a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man wearing jeans and a Cal State – Long Beach sweatshirt. "Mr. Ballard," the man said. "Uh, okay. Uh, come in, and I'll help you with what I can."

And as the unknowing Paul Ballard walked past the man he thought was Stephen Kepler and into the apartment beyond, a grin grew on Alpha's face. This was just too easy.

* * *

_You'd better look out below!_

* * *

**with Alan Tudyk as Alpha**

THE END


End file.
